


Eight Years After

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, This is a sequel to Three Musketeers and a Bébé & Involves a 12 year old d'Artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 59
Words: 202,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: This is a follow-up to my other story called: Three Musketeers and a Bébé.If you haven’t read this I’d suggest doing so. This way you get an understanding of how d’Artagnan related to everyone and of course his adoptive papas.  But if you don’t want to this would still stand alone. I will try to refer to things that happened in my original story so some new readers won’t get totally lost. Also in my story King Louis lives, not dying from illness nor does Cardinal Richelieu. There will also be some other familiar faces returning in this story as well.Credit for the picture goes to Elenduen. Merci, mon ami!The title is a take-off from Alexandre Dumas’ novel: “Ten Years After” because my story takes place eight years after d’Artagnan turns four years old. Which now makes him twelve. Everyone else, of course, has aged along with our young Gascon. Their Majestys being in their early thirties as well as the inseparables who are now: thirty three – Aramis, thirty four – Porthos and thirty four – Athos.See notes at bottom.++++





	1. Chapter 1

 

_Early afternoon – Royal Palace grounds, just off from the Royal Gardens_

“Ha! Take that, you blackguard! And That!” Yelling as he attacked his opponent with a wooden toy sword, said opponent cried out as if pierced. The victim dropped his own wooden sword, clutched at his heart, then staggered back a pace or two to fall in an ungainly heap upon the hardened earth. Kicking out at his victim with his boot, the victor’s laughter bubbled out of him. “You’re now very dead, mon ami!”

Cracking one eye open at a time, twelve year old d’Artagnan grinned up at his best friend. The seven year old Dauphin was impishly grinning down at him, relishing that he had won their mock sword fight.

All around them were a mixture of amused guards assigned to protect the young, future king of France. As the years had rolled by, it became a common occurrence to see more Red Guards working hand-in-hand with the Musketeers. Which could simply be put down to the close relationship that had been established between d’Artagnan and Cardinal Richelieu.

Shortly after d’Artagnan’s fourth natal day, Her Majesty made the joyous announcement of her pregnancy. The long awaited Dauphin had finally been born into the world, kicking and squalling, a few months shy of d’Artagnan’s fifth birthday. Being close to the young monarchs, he couldn’t be swayed from seeing that Anne was fine after the birthing. Having been given permission to address her by her given name, d’Artagnan couldn’t think of Anne as his queen but as a close friend instead. Same went for Louis as well.

The moment four year old d’Artagnan peered down into the bébé's bassinet, he knew that they were going to be the very best of friends. Knowing that one day d’Artagnan was destined to follow in his papa’s footsteps, he vowed to be the best Musketeer possible so that he could protect the Dauphin with his very life. Shaking him out of his thoughts, a persistent voice droned on in the background bringing d'Artagnan back to the present.

“I wish I was allowed a real rapier like yours d’Art.” Pouting, Louis threw himself down on the ground where his friend still laid.

Leaning up on both elbows, d’Artagnan considered that the expression his companion wore bore a striking resemblance to that of Louis when the king didn’t get his own way in an important matter.

“You’re still too young to handle a real blade yet. I’ve told you that before.” D’Artagnan’s words only fueled the petit garcon’s temper.

“ _You_ have one,” Louis grumbled. “You’re _young_ too.”

“But not too young to be taught swordplay.” Gaining his feet, d’Artagnan plucked Louis up from the ground to let the child ride piggy on their way back inside the Louvre.

“How old do I have to be to have a real sword?” Arms tight around d’Artagnan’s neck, legs wrapped loosely about his friend’s waist, Louis rested his chin on the older youngster’s right shoulder.

“I was nine when papa Athos began my training with an actual rapier,” d’Artagnan replied truthfully.

"That means I still have two more years to wait," Louis childishly whined.

"And when that time comes around I'll have taught you some special techniques papa Athos has shown me." D'Artagnan began walking slowly toward the palace doors. "It will be something to surprise Louis and Anne with." Coming to a halt, he had to wait for the two Red Guards on duty to open the double doors admitting them back inside. It was then that a curious thought came to him. "Perhaps when you are of age Louis could teach you himself." Missing the effect his words had on the petit, d'Artagnan wondered if what he suggested pleased his young friend.

Scrunching up his face, Louis sadly shook his head. "Papa isn't very good at it, d'Art." Wondering why the older boy's shoulders were shaking so hard, Louis slid off d'Artagnan's back. "Was I too heavy?"

"Non," d'Artagnan chuckled. "You're a light weight. Twas our words about Louis that did it."

"I've watched papa with the captain." Sighing from the depth of his young soul, Louis beseeched d'Artagnan with his large, doe eyes. "I'd rather train with Athos."

"One never knows,” d’Artagnan mused. “Perhaps I shall be the one training you." His hand on the small of Louis' back, he guided the child toward the palace kitchens where both of them were greeted by the staff.

Chef Morin was used to those two children running in and out of his kitchen. So he always made sure to have plenty of treats on hand for the pair. Dusting off the flour from his person he retrieved a plateful of pastries to give them. "Their Majestys may take a switch to me for spoiling you both but I've been doing this for far too long to stop now." Placing the plate on the corner of the table, Morin waved his hands at them. "Eat. Eat!"

Not needing further urging, d'Artagnan and Louis did as ordered.

++++

_Royal Throne Room_

"I'm bored, Cardinal." Tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne, King Louis nearly rolled his eyes. Instead his fingers began playing with the long hair of his wig. "How long do I have to listen to this odious man prattle on about the shape of our royal treasury?"

Leaning down, Richelieu whispered into the king's ear. "Unfortunately until Monsieur Saurageot runs out of words or breath, whichever comes first, Sire."

Realizing that the cardinal actually made a jest, King Louis covered his mouth with a hand. "Bien, if that is the case we may be here all day."

There was a slight creak of a door opening that had Richelieu turning around to see who had entered the room. Lips curling upward he murmured, "Sire, I do believe rescue is at hand."

"Mmmmm," King Louis hummed tilting his head to one side in question, not sure what the cardinal meant. Then he understood upon hearing a young voice call out - _papa_. Waving aside the odious man King Louis held his arms out wide to embrace his petit. "Did you and d'Artagnan enjoy yourselves, Louis?"

"Oui, but I told d'Art I'd rather have a real sword."

"Time enough for that, young man," Richelieu spoke up. Heaven help them all if the petit got hold of a real weapon. They all might have to barricade themselves in their rooms until the lad was disarmed.

"Anyway, mon fils, you saved me from a tedious lecture on finances." A wide grin split King Louis' face. Spying the remainder of powdered sugar on not only the petit garcon's chin but on young d'Artagnan' lips as well, he exchanged amused looks with Cardinal Richelieu. "Are there any sweets left for dinner tonight?"

Ducking his head away from the dark, twinkling eyes of both adults, d'Artagnan swiped at his mouth, brushing away the evidence that lingered on his doublet too. Slightly embarrassed at having been caught out he said, "Chef Morin's baking more. So there's no need to worry."

"I should hope not." Eyes wandering around the room they eventually came to rest on the miniature throne that sat close to his own. King Louis remembered when he had gifted it to the twelve year old Gascon that now stood before him. When his son went to sit down upon it, King Louis caught the indulgent look on d'Artagnan's face. "Tis a kind heart you have letting Louis have the throne I had made especially for you."

"I've outgrown it," d'Artagnan shrugged. "Anyway, what do I need a throne for? After all, Louis needs the practice for one day he will rule France."

Comfortably ensconced in the throne, that once belonged to his friend, Louis was curious. "Papa, why did you give d'Art one like yours?"

"Because tis what I wanted to do at the time." It wasn’t the answer the child was looking for but, for the moment, it was all King Louis felt like saying.

Monsieur Sauvageot, on the other hand, was bursting at the seams waiting to finish speaking. Afraid that His Majesty was going to leave without hearing him out, he pushed past several Red Guards to draw closer to the king. "Sire!"

"Oh mon Dieu! You're still here!" Moaning his annoyance, not caring how obvious he was about it, King Louis stood up tapping a foot impatiently. "Cardinal..."

"Oui, Your Majesty, I shall take care of it." As he usually did, thought Richelieu with no small amount of irony. Even though many years have passed, some things remained the same.

"If everyone would pardon me I have to get back to the Garrison." Bowing, d'Artagnan waved farewell to his friends, "I've got to take care of grooming the horses now before someone sends papa Porthos to come carry me back to the Garrison." Leaving them all with that vision in their heads, d'Artagnan departed the Louvre.

++++

_Garrison_

Dismounting Tempest, d'Artagnan led him into a section of the stable where his papa's horses were already quartered. Removing his own mount's saddle he then set about grooming Roger first. While doing so, d'Artagnan thought about Zad back at the house.

Now that he was older d'Artagnan rode her just around home to give Zad a light workout. Originally a present from papa Athos, Zad was a poney and only reached about fourteen hands high now. She really wasn't a good riding horse for him any longer since d’Artagnan had grown with the years.

The horse he now owned was nearly seventeen hands high and more suitable to d'Artagnan's lifestyle. Papa Aramis had gifted him Tempest on his tenth natal day. As stormy in personality as the horse's name, d’Artagnan came to an understanding with Tempest almost instantly. Bien, he always did have a special touch when it came to horses.

But Zad, being a Meren, made her a good work horse to use around home. Still d'Artagnan missed the days when he had been only three years of age and proudly rode Zad around the Garrison and the Royal Palace.

"Ah! There's the whelp!" Roared Porthos to his two companions who followed him into the stables.

Pausing in brushing down Roger, d'Artagnan beamed a wide smile at his papas. "Bonjour!"

"We thought you were still at the palace with the Dauphin," leaning casually against a post, Aramis observed the lad at work, "until Eustis told us he noticed you coming here."

"We finished playing over half an hour ago. Besides I needed to get back here to give your horses the beauty treatment." Continuing with Roger's grooming, d'Artagnan told them what he and Louis did after their swordplay. "So after finishing we went to the kitchens where Chef Morin gave us sweets. Then Louis and I ended up in the throne room."

"Was His Majesty attending to business when you two barged in on him?" Crossing his arms, Athos' steady gaze rested on his son.

"We didn't _barge in_ , papa." Running his hand over Roger's flank d'Artagnan gave the horse a gentle pat. "I think Louis and Cardinal Richelieu were pleased at the interruption."

"I bet they were," muttered Aramis, kicking out at some loose hay by his feet.

"Non, honestly." Holding out a carrot for Roger to munch on, he glanced over his shoulder at the others. "Louis said we saved him from a tedious lecture on finances."

One thing that none of the inseparables had ever gotten used to was d'Artagnan calling Their Majestys by their given names. Oh they knew, ever since the youngster was three, that their son had the king and queen wrapped around his fingers. So much so that both monarchs insisted the lad treat them as if they too were family. Of course the older the pup turned they drummed into d'Artagnan the need for correct protocol when in mixed company. Something the lad finally began to understand.

The other big change occurred on their son's eighth natal day when he announced, to all and sundry, that he no longer preferred to be called Charles. Instead the pup wanted to be known simply as _d'Artagnan_. Even though the inseparables had adopted him, between the three of them, they couldn't decide on which surname to give the petit. Letting things slide, no one had questioned it. Eventually it took the youngster to make his own decision.

" _D'Artagnan_ was a proud Gascon name and it had belonged to the lad's papa. It was one way to honor the man's memory, and the inseparables had no issue with their son's decision. They were secure in the knowledge that d'Artagnan loved them with all his heart. As the years passed, the pup picked up the nickname of _d'Art_. It suited him because the youngster was known to dart here, there and everywhere. But when d'Artagnan was in trouble, which was more often than any of the inseparables would have liked, they would call the lad by his entire name.

"Don't forget that Constance is expecting you at her home later." Good thing they stumbled upon their young one when they did. Inwardly sighing, Athos noted the look of dawning comprehension on his son's face. D'Artagnan had indeed forgotten the appointment. Athos shouldn't have been surprised.

Grimacing, d'Artagnan knew he should be grateful to Constance. Being a seamstress, having her own business and personal dressmaker to the queen, it was a wonder she could fit time into her busy schedule for him. Whenever he had a growth spurt Constance would measure him for a new set of leathers, or any other clothing he might need and never charged for her work. But his papas would still slip some coins into her hands and help Constance out in many other ways. “Guess I better hurry up then.” Finished with Roger, he quickly went on to Belle. “Would one of you tell her I might be a little late.”

Throwing an arched brow toward Athos, Aramis knew the job would fall to himself. He and Constance had remained close. When he was younger, Aramis had actually considered marriage to her. But, as is his nature, he loved women and didn’t believe he could settle down with only one. At least at that time.

Today, they considered themselves best friends. And, oui, it was possible for him to have a platonic relationship with the female of the species. Though one never knew what the future holds in store. Perhaps things would change or perhaps not. Constance had shown no inclination for marriage either. She was a strong, independent woman in her own right. Well able to take care of herself, without a man clinging to her apron strings. Above all things, Aramis admired strength and intelligence in a woman, which Constance had in spades. “I’ll go.” He held up a finger, wagging it at his son. “But, so help me, if she boxes my ears your rear’s going to feel some pain, young man.”

Twisting his head around so fast it nearly made d’Artagnan’s head spin, he stared agape at papa. “Why?”

“Because, whelp,” Porthos rough voice broke in, “ya forgot you’re fittin’ with ‘er… agin’ I might add.” Glancing at Athos, Porthos pointed at the runt. “’Ow many times does that make now?”

Counting on his gloved fingers, Athos appeared to be concentrating quite hard. “Let us see. Mmmmm. That makes five times within a two month period I believe.” Shaking his head at d’Artagnan, Athos’ lips firmed into a hard line. “Amazing when you think upon it.” His blue-eyed gaze encompassed the entire group. “Our youngest can remember all the intricate steps of swordplay yet cannot remember a single appointment with Constance.” A disappointed look from him landed on the lad. “Badly played, mon fils.”

Throwing the brush in a bucket, d’Artagnan bent his head in shame. Long hair dangling in his eyes. “I promise not to forget from now on.”

“Oy! ‘An pigs fly!” Gruff laughter erupted from Porthos, making his other two brothers do the same. “We’ll still try an ‘old ya to that, runt.”

“Right after you’re done with the horses you’ll go straight to see her. Because I may have to sweeten her up after I tell her you’re running behind schedule.” Still casually leaning against the same post, Aramis waited for the usual eye roll from the lad and wasn’t disappointed when it came. “Do you ever get tired of doing that?” Receiving only a questioning arch of one brow, Aramis realized the moment he had asked it that it had been a stupid question.

“Right then,” Athos said quietly. “We’re off to see Treville and we’ll leave you to it, d’Art.” The grunt he heard from his son seemed to satisfy Athos, so with a look at his friends they walked out of the stable.

++++

_About an hour later at Constance Bonacieux’s house_

“That medallion Flea gave you is getting in my way, d’Art. Would you remove it for me?” When the young man handed it over to her, Constance examined it again. Tracing the intricate pattern of the fleur-de-lis with a fingertip, she was thoughtful. “You’ve more than made use of this I gather.” Her dry tone elicited a cocky grin from d’Artagnan.

“Tis not often one gets carte blanche to enter the Cour des Miracles, Constance.”

“I worry when you go over there even though that medallion gives you safe passage.” Mumbling her words over the pins in her mouth, Constance kept measuring d’Artagnan for a new shirt, along with a fancy dress jacket and pants. Somehow the youngster managed to get a huge rip in his last shirt, making it beyond repair. Then Athos told her the lad needed something more elaborate to wear for whenever d’Artagnan was invited to join Their Majestys’ soirees or fetes.

"Must be nice to be invited to all those parties." Pinning the material of d'Art's new jacket just where she wanted it, Constance accidentally pricked the young Gascon.

"Ouch!" Scowling at her, d'Artagnan frowned. "I'm not a pin cushion you know."

"Oh stop your grumbling or there won't be any dessert for you later." Lightly hitting the lad up the backside of his head, Constance went back to her work.

"Dessert?" Having a notorious sweet tooth, that was well known all around the Garrison, d'Artagnan decided to be a perfect pin cushion for Constance. Not a peep would come out of him, as long as there was a promise of a tasty treat. Not daring to tell her about the sweets he had already had at the palace, d'Artagnan figured what Constance didn't know wouldn't hurt her... or him.

"Mmmmm," she hummed pleasantly. "I baked your favorite pie."

"Raspberry," he chirped. "Merci, Constance."

"I know I shouldn't spoil you but," carefully removing the jacket from the young Gascon Constance went to hang it up, "tis hard not to do when you pull at my heart so." Finding herself whirled around to face a smiling d'Artagnan, the youngster pecked her cheek with a swift kiss.

"You are the most beautious... most marvelous woman in all of Paris," d'Artagnan sincerely exclaimed.

Laughing so hard at the lad's words, Constance held her side when it began to hurt. "D'Art, I can count on my hands the number of women you know in this city. So that isn't much of a comparison." Poking him in the ribs she added, "Plus that kind of talk sounds better coming out of Aramis' mouth than yours."

"You do know how to spoil a good mood." Following her into the kitchen d'Artagnan sat down at the table. When Constance served him a big slice of pie, he licked his lips. "Porthos is going to be jealous."

"No he won't." Taking two more freshly baked pies out of the oven Constance placed them on the window sill to cool. "I made those for the rest of your family." While cutting a slice of raspberry pie for herself, there was a knock upon her door. "Oh bother! Just when I was sitting down." Grumbling all the way to the back door she yanked it open. A little taken aback to be staring face to face with a Red Guard, Constance was a bit apprehensive. "Oui."

"Sorry to intrude, Mademoiselle." The uncomfortable guard cleared his throat twice. "Cardinal Richelieu would like to speak with d'Art. Ummmm, I meant d'Artagnan," he corrected himself. Trying to look past the young woman's shoulder, he couldn't see the youngster. "I was led to believe that he was here."

Turning her back on the guard Constance noted that d'Artagnan had just finished eating his pie. "Oh, d'Art," she sing-songed, "His Eminence is beckoning."

"But I just saw him not so long ago and he didn't say anything to me then." Wondering how he was going to get those pies to his papas, since d'Artagnan now had an appointment with the cardinal, he relaxed when Constance waved his concern away. She could read him so well.

"I'll worry about delivering the pies." She affectionately tugged his ear. "You worry about seeing what Cardinal Richelieu wants this time." Swatting his rear-end with a kitchen towel, she chuckled. "Now go on with you."

Bowing gracefully before departing, d'Artagnan then stepped outside to follow the guard over to a carriage that was waiting for him. Most curious to find out what the cardinal wanted, he enjoyed the ride back to the Palais-Cardinal.

++++

_Notes:_

Ran out of room at the top as Archive limited my words. But for anyone new to reading this, if the picture above is gone it's because Postimages.org is having financial issues and may shut down. Which means this picture will disappear. Just a heads up on this in case it happens.

_Mon fils_ \- my son  
_Poney_ – French for pony

The _Merens_ or Cheval de Merens are small, rustic horses native to the Pyrenees and Ariegeois mountains of southern France. They are always black and are considered a beautiful horse breed. They require very little care and can survive on poor food, even when working. They are very versatile and are able to live all year outside without suffering from the weather, though they do react poorly to heat. They are known for their endurance, agility and surefootedness. They are considered mountain horses and in the past were used for farm work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are going to deal with season two’s: A Marriage of Inconvenience. So there will be familiar names mentioned pertaining to that episode throughout but with my own twists and turns added. So parts may be the same and others not so much.  
> Also, one of my writing friends - NotNecessarilyInThatOrder told me that on the show at the end of the episode the fake princess' name was mentioned. So you don't get confused when she is not in character as Princess Louise, the fake princess' name is Sophia Martinez.
> 
> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

_Late afternoon – Palais-Cardinal_

“Bonjour, Your Eminence.” There were at least five cats making themselves at home in Cardinal Richelieu’s office. One was currently sitting on a window sill quietly observing the landscape, another was curled upon the floor by the cardinal’s feet purring its contentment. Two others prowled around the room no doubt investigating for errant mice, whereas the last one caused d’Artagnan to smother a laugh. It was wrapped around His Eminence’s neck like a well-worn scarf. Tis a wonder the man could even draw breath.

It had made d’Artagnan think of his own cat that Cardinal Richelieu had gifted him with when he had only been a three year old petit garcon. Alex wasn’t pleased to have been left behind today, like so much baggage. No longer a kitten, she still managed to find and get into as much trouble as Alex had when she had only been a tiny creature no bigger than papa Athos’ hand.

Originally d’Artagnan was going to take Alex with him today to visit young Louis but nixed that idea after thinking more upon it. She needed a break from the Louvre anyway, at least for a few days. Last week he had lost sight of Alex, which had been sheer gross negligence on his part. She had managed to find her way into the palace kitchen, whose location by now Alex knew by heart. Chef Morin was not pleased to discover later that the fish he had worked tirelessly to prepare for Their Majesty’s dinner had suddenly ceased to exist.

Investigating the disappearance, Morin discovered Alex underneath one of the kitchen tables cleaning her paws after enjoying her repast. To his horror remnants of the fish she had eaten were quite evident as Alex ran her pink tongue around her mouth, gathering every morsel that was left behind. Taking a broom Morin chased Alex all around the kitchen, amusing his kitchen staff to no end. This was the scene that met d’Artagnan’s eyes when he went searching for his wayward cat. So bringing the minx back to the royal palace today wouldn’t have been a wise choice.

“Ah!” Lifting his head up from the missive he had been reading, Richelieu waved the young Gascon to take a seat. “Go on, d’Artagnan, make yourself comfortable.”

Doing so d’Artagnan’s eyes lingered still on the cat around Cardinal Richelieu’s neck. “Once upon a time Alex used to do that to me as well.” Pointing to said animal d’Artagnan watched the cardinal gently remove the cat from his person, leaving it free to roam about the room. “Now Alex feels tis beneath her to do so any longer.”

“Knowing Alex the way I do, I totally agree.” Pushing his letter aside, Richelieu settled back in his chair. “I need a favor. The kings’ cousin Princess Louise of Mantua is to marry the crown prince of Sweden. Athos, Porthos and Aramis have been charged to escort her back to Paris where Archbishop Jacqueme will bless the marriage.

“Where do I come in?” One of the cardinal’s pets decided to use d'Artagnan as a warm cushion and jumped upon his lap, wanting some attention. Rubbing the silky, dark fur between his fingers the cat began to purr.

“I’m getting to that, child.” Lips curling upward into a tentative smile when the boy bristled upon being referred to as a petit, Richelieu drummed his long fingers on the top of his desk. "She will be staying at the Louvre until after the marriage is blessed and I felt that the princess might enjoy the company of someone closer to her own age."

"How old is the princess, if I may ask?"

"Eighteen." Holding up a hand at the protest that was on the lad's lips, Richelieu gave him a sharp look. "I know there's a six year gap but feel you would be the best person to keep her entertained so that she doesn't expire from sheer boredom."

"Perhaps young Louis and I could both do that together." Noting Cardinal Richelieu's eyes widen in dismay at d'Artagnan's suggestion, he nearly giggled. Something he had grown out of awhile back. But every now and then the urge came over him, as it did now.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Richelieu should have seen that one coming. "Princess Louise will be guarded at all times. But that sword you wear may also come into play if someone tries to harm her." Deciding to ignore the fact that the Dauphin might accompany d'Artagnan, Richelieu concentrated on other matters.

"You suspect the Spanish would try to kill her?" Not a comforting thought. D'Artagnan felt for the young woman.

"They wouldn't want to see this marriage take place," was Richelieu's retort.

"When is her expected arrival?" The cat he was petting decided it was tired of d'Artagnan. Jumping upon the desk the cat rubbed its head against the cardinal's hand.

"Within a week." Rubbing behind the cat’s ear, Richelieu grinned at its purr of pleasure.

"This should turn out to be an interesting visit." Not sure how much in common a twelve year old could have with someone of eighteen years, d'Artagnan was willing to give it his best shot.

"I have faith in you, d'Artagnan." Standing up Richelieu walked around his desk to lay a hand on the lad's shoulder. "I will notify you when Princess Louise arrives."

Standing up as well, d'Artagnan dipped his head. "Now that I think about it maybe I'll bring Alex along too." Hearing His Eminence's quiet snort, d'Artagnan grinned. "I shall see you later then, Cardinal."

After the boy departed, Richelieu wondered what sort of trouble the Dauphin, d'Artagnan and Alex could get the princess into.

++++

A few days later the inseparables had been sent out to meet Princess Louise' carriage and escort her the rest of the way back to Paris.

The princess was shy, demure and definitely not looking forward to marrying a stranger. Every now and then Aramis managed to tease a smile from her solemn face. Never had it taken so much effort to charm a woman before. But alas, Aramis figured Princess Louise' mind was on her upcoming nuptials and not on him trying to be gallant. Riding beside the carriage, Aramis began whistling to stave off the tediousness of their journey.

"Ain't made much 'eadway with the princess eh, Mis?"

"Gloating doesn't become you, Porthos." His larger brother rode close beside Aramis. So close in fact that he could see the sparkle of amusement lighting the eyes of his friend. Ah bien, Aramis looked forward to getting back home where he knew his romantic talents to woo fair maidens would be of better use.

Riding past both men, Athos went to take the lead in front of the carriage. In passing he couldn't resist a teasing remark. "Princess Louise is better off thinking upon her forthcoming marriage than a flirtatious Musketeer." Catching the stunned expression crossing Aramis' handsome features, Athos' blue eyes twinkled having gotten one up on the marksman. Porthos' hearty laughter followed Athos as the lieutenant breezed by on Roger.

By the end of the week the inseparables, and the princess, had safely arrived at the Louvre in the early morn. Turning her care over to the palace guards the inseparables soon left to report to Captain Treville.

++++

_Inside the Royal Palace_

"Your quarters, Princess." One of the palace maids opened the door to the young woman's chambers. Pushing aside the curtains to brighten the room she then went over to open the luggage. The maid's intention had been to unpack the princess' gowns and hang them in the closet. She couldn't help but notice an elaborately hand-carved, oak chest which had been carried in by the footman. Since it was large enough, the maid figured the gowns were in the chest. Going to open it first it was then that Princess Louise spoke up.

"Never mind that." Knowing her words were uttered a tad too sharply, Princess Louise smiled at the startled maid. "I'm overly tired from my lengthy journey and would care for a nap. I'll take care of my things later." The maid bobbed her head in understanding and immediately left the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, shedding her pretense, Sophia jumped up from the chair she was sitting upon and opened what appeared to be a bridal chest. What was inside it had nothing to do with wedding finery. Lovingly stroking the crossbow she fingered several arrows that laid beside it. "Soon. Very soon," she whispered. Glancing over her shoulder, toward the corner of the room she said, "Our plans can now be set in motion, Francesco."

Playing the part of her footman the handsome man drew closer to Sophia. Taking the young woman into his arms, Francesco bent his head to give her a lingering kiss. Pulling apart he whispered against her neck, “Then after we've concluded our business here you and I can leave this city behind us and embark on a different type of journey that includes just the two of us.”

A brief knock upon the door shattered the silence that had descended upon the room, as the two lovers kissed again. Scowling at the interruption, Francesco went to open it. Upon his surprise to see the young monarch, he bowed his head acknowledging King Louis as the His Majesty whisked by him.

Pretending a delight, which she didn’t feel upon seeing the king, her hands were held out to him. “Tis so good to see you, Louis!”

“Last time we saw each other we were naught but children, Louise.” Beaming a wide smile at her Louis kept a tight hold of both her hands. “I know on the morrow you’ll be at Notre Dame to have your marriage blessed by the archbishop,” squeezing her cold hands gently he frowned, “I simply wanted to say tis no need to feel nervous. I’ve been where you’re at before, if you remember.” Not sure if his words had brought some comfort to the young woman or not, Louis searched his brain for something else to say that might make Louise feel better.

“Louis, I’m marrying a total stranger. I won’t see the crown princes’ face until our wedding day. Tis hard not to feel jittery no matter your kind words to the contrary.” Tugging her hands free she walked over to a window, pushing the curtains aside to peer out over the palace grounds. “Do not worry. I was raised for this purpose and shall do my duty.”

Nothing Louis could have said further would make Louise’ situation more palatable. Instead he hoped his next news would lighten her mood. “I have a young friend coming over to take your mind off of these weighty matters for a time, ma chère.”

“That's very sweet of you. It will give me something to look forward too.” Arching a delicate brow, tilting her head to the side she asked, “Whom are you sending?”

“D’Artagnan is a very nice Gascon boy.” Pressing her hand, Louis grinned. “Everyone loves him. I believe you two will get along quite well.”

++++

_Late morning – Princess Louise’ chambers_

Another visitor came calling, this one was quite young. When Francesco opened the door, Princess Louise couldn’t help but smile at the boy. Noting his hesitation to enter she pulled the Gascon inside so fast that it made the lad nearly stumble over his own two feet. Quickly righting himself, his cheeks bloomed rosy. “You must be d’Artagnan.”

“Cardinal Richelieu and Louis thought you may be lonely and someone closer to your own age might put your more at ease for the time you are here with us.” Observing the footman standing off to one side, but still hovering close to the princess, d’Artagnan was slightly uncomfortable with the way the gentleman kept looking him over as if he were an assassin.

“Are you and my cousin close friends then?” It hadn’t slipped past her how freely d’Artagnan had called King Louis by his given name.

“Oui,” he ducked his head shyly. “Since I was three years of age.”

Hooking her arm into the boy’s, Princess Louise directed the youngster over to a set of chairs. “There’s an interesting story there and I’d love to hear it.” Sitting down she indicated with a slight motion of her head for d'Artagnan to do the same.

So for the better part of an hour d’Artagnan gave her a run down on his relationship with Louis, Anne and Cardinal Richelieu. Just as d’Artagnan was wrapping up his story a petit whirlwind burst through the door unsettling the footman, whom he had later learned was called Francesco. For a moment there d’Artagnan feared the older man appeared ready to pull out a weapon from his vest but Francesco settled once he saw who it was. “Louis, did you lose your manners on the way here?”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Louis stared at his friend in stunned silence. “Apologies. I was too excited when papa told me I could meet the princess.”

“Who is this charming petit garcon?” Directing her question at the Gascon but looking at the child Princess Louise missed the odd expression that passed over d’Artagnan’s face.

“This is the Dauphin.” Which d’Artagnan thought the princess would have known. Very strange. Another thing that struck him as even stranger was that Cardinal Richelieu told him that the princess was eighteen. Funny that. He would have put Princess Louise in her early twenties at least.

"Louis' and Anne's child." Pretending delight once more, Princess Louise clapped her hands together. Hugging the petit, her hand rested lightly upon Louis' head. "I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance."

Giggling, Louis pulled away from her to go sit on d'Artagnan's lap. "You're very pretty."

"Merci, kind sir." Observing the petit with the young Gascon, Princess Louise could tell that they had a close relationship. Just as d'Artagnan had with King Louis.

"Perhaps you'd like to go riding with us. Louis and I could show you around the grounds since tis too late to take you into the city," d'Artagnan offered.

Looking over her shoulder at Francesco, she caught him shaking his head back and forth. "I would have liked that but my journey has been a long one and I admit it has tired me."

"We could show you around on the morrow," chirped Louis. "Can't we, d'Art?"

"If the princess feels up to it." Removing Louis from his lap, d'Artagnan stood up. "Or if you'd rather, Princess, perhaps you'd like to play croquet with us?"

"I'm sure I'll feel more myself come the morrow and shall enjoy being with you both," she smiled at them. "I haven't played that game in ages. My skills may be sadly lacking."

"That's okay," Louis nodded. "We're not that great at it either."

"Out of the mouths of babes," d'Artagnan muttered. Upon listening to the princess' tinkling laughter, she at least found Louis' derogatory remark amusing. "What time shall we call on you?"

"My appointment with the archbishop is to be around ten in the morn. He'll be blessing my marriage then," she explained. "I should be back at the Louvre around noon."

"Then we shall see you around then, Princess." Bowing, d'Artagnan took Louis by the hand and both departed the room.

After they had left, Sophia turned to Francesco. The latter was leaning against the wall, amusement clearly written on his features. "Don't dare to laugh. Tis not in the least funny." Walking up to him she placed her head upon his chest, which was shaking with laughter.

"You playing with children is a sight I wouldn't want to miss for all the world," Francesco teased her as his mouth descended upon hers.

++++

_Early evening - the inseparable's home_

"She did have a trying day, d'Art." Helping Aramis clean up after dinner Athos could tell something wasn't sitting right with his son. At first he thought it was because the lad wasn't able to show Princess Louise around. Now Athos wasn't so positive that was it.

"Oh I understood that, papa. Tis just..." Throwing himself from the chair he had been sitting upon, d'Artagnan began pacing up and down the kitchen. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. "Don't any of you think Princess Louise looks older than eighteen?"

"I for one would suggest never to question a lady's age." Twirling his mustache, Aramis impishly grinned. "Tis just not the done thing, pup."

"I really paid no mind one way or the other, whelp," Porthos said. "I was too busy listenin' ta Miss tryin' ta flirt with the princess."

"Perhaps she was overly concerned about her marriage," Athos offered. "That alone would add age lines on any person." Again, he noted there was something else still bothering the youngster.

"Don't you feel that she should have known the Dauphin when the princess saw him?" Not waiting for a response from any of them, d'Artagnan pushed on. "Because she didn't recognize who Louis was when he came tearing into the room."

Rubbing his chin in thought, Athos had to admit that the boy had a good point. "She hasn't been back here for a long time though."

"Oui, I know that." D'Artagnan, still pacing, had to dodge quickly out of papa Aramis' way or else knock the older man down. "But Anne told me she had miniature portraits commissioned upon Louis' sixth natal day and had them sent out to their relatives."

"Ya sure the princess was one of 'em, runt?" Biting into a tasty apple, Porthos began thinking the whelp was worrying over nothing.

"Anne specifically told me she thought that Princess Louise would love the miniature." Feeling hands upon his shoulders, d'Artagnan turned his head to the side encountering papa Aramis' irritated face.

"Would you remain in one place?" Aramis huffed. "I fear you and I are going to collide if you keep up in that manner."

"Apologies, papa." Believing that none of them were going to be of much help, d'Artagnan was about to go to his room.

"The Dauphin is a year older," Athos pointed out. "Perhaps he appeared different from his portrait to her eyes."

"And perhaps I'm making mountains out of molehills eh, papa Athos?" Chuckling at his own jest, d'Artagnan went to each man to hug them goodnight.

After the pup left, Athos' troubled expression wasn't lost on his brothers. "Now the lad has me worried."

"Flights of fancy, Athos," Porthos scoffed. "Just a kid's imagination workin' overtime."

"Speaking of _working_." Pursing his lips, Aramis was a bit put out at his bigger brother. "You could have moved your lazy ass and helped moi and Athos with dinner and the dishes afterward."

" _Lazy_ is such an ugly word." Laughing wickedly, Porthos winked at them. "I prefer, _selective participation_."

Throwing a kitchen towel at the darker skinned man, Aramis rolled his eyes. "You're impossible!"

"I know but ya love me anyway." Polishing off his apple Porthos reached for another.

++++

_Next morning – Notre Dame Cathedral_

Head bent in prayer, while Archbishop Jacqueme blessed her forthcoming marriage, Princess Louise suddenly found herself screaming hysterically as the archbishop collapsed by her side… a crossbow protruding from his bloody chest.

Pandemonium broke out at that juncture. Musketeers and Red Guard swarmed around the princess. Whatever threat still existed within the cathedral, they all felt that it was meant for her.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ” exclaimed Porthos, still in a state of shock over what had occurred.

“ _Mere de Dieu!_ ” Murmuring those heartfelt words, Aramis knelt by the archbishop’s body. Making the sign of the cross, he bowed his head to pray over it.

“ _Nom de Dieu!_ ” Swearing viciously, Athos made sure the other soldiers on duty escorted the shocked Princess Louise safely back to the Louvre.

Examining what he could see of the crossbow, Athos was furious that this had happened right under their noses. “It would appear there’s an assassin afoot. For only one of that inclination would resort to a weapon of this type.” Noting Porthos’ grim expression, Athos saw that his brother silently agreed with his assessment. “Aramis, if you are quite finished we need to report immediately to Treville.

Gaining his feet, Aramis angrily glared back at his older friend. “Someone aught to say prayers for the deceased."

“Considering the dead man was the archbishop,” Athos dryly retorted, “there will be prayers aplenty at his funeral.” Placing a hand on the marksman’s shoulder, Athos ushered his younger brother out of the cathedral.

++++

_Notes:_

_History trivia:_ In real life Cardinal Richelieu loved cats and had been known to have at least fourteen.

 _Quote: "Lazy is such an ugly word. I prefer, selective participation."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Mere de Dieu_ – Mother of God  
_Nom de Dieu_ – God damn it


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same morning, right after the assassination of Archbishop Jacqueme_

_Royal Palace – King Louis’ chambers_

“I ask you again, Treville,” King Louis’ voice rose shrilly causing others in the room to wince though he pretended not to notice their discomfort, nor did he care, “how the deuce did Jacqueme end up murdered!” Upon first learning of the horrendous act perpetrated upon a man of the cloth, King Louis went to the small chapel within the palace to pray for the archbishop’s soul.

After a short amount of time had passed, he commanded his page to notify Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville to report to him at once. The speed at which both men appeared at King Louis’ side had almost been amusing, if the circumstances that had brought them here hadn’t been so dire. Perhaps someone of high import should always be assassinated if he were to get this type of response. Which King Louis realized was a poor thought on his part.

With His Eminence and Treville both in attendance, King Louis wasn’t surprised to see the inseparables as well. They were after all his cousin’s guards during the blessing and, at present, witnesses to what had occurred at Notre Dame. Turning his attention on them, he walked straight up to Athos. “I don’t suppose any of you caught sight of the assassin?”

Hating to tell His Majesty something that the young monarch didn’t want to hear, Athos opened his mouth but no sound emerged.

Throwing his hands up in the air, King Louis whirled around stomping over to his throne. “I shall have to thank providence for small favors that my cousin didn’t lose her life this morn.” Thumping his fist hard on the arm of his throne, he glared at everyone in the room except the cardinal. That man had turned a sickly shade of green upon realizing that the archbishop was no more. “I want whomever was responsible hunted down like a dog!” Noting that none of the soldiers nor his old fox had moved a muscle, King Louis stood up swinging his right arm out to point at the door to his chambers. “And I want it done _NOW_!” Nearly screaming his rage it was then that Treville urgently motioned for the inseparables to follow him.

Slumping back down onto his throne, King Louis wearily stared at Richelieu. “This will not go unanswered, Cardinal. I promise you that.”

Still stunned at the news, Richelieu could only nod his head in agreement. “If you will, Sire, I would like to also have some of my own men aid in the search for this creature.”

“Do that, Cardinal.” Snapping out his anger, King Louis hadn’t really meant to take it out on the other man. “Perhaps between my Musketeers and your Red Guards this assassin won’t make it out of the city.”

“Tis to be hoped, Your Majesty.” Bowing his head Richelieu backed away from the throne. Departing, his red cape swirled about his tall form.

++++

_Slightly after the noon hour – Royal Palace_

Young Louis trailed behind d’Artagnan, the Gascon’s pet Alex held secure in his arms. Both youngsters wondered what had happened, when they noted more than the usual number of Musketeers and Red Guard in and around the palace.

Upon nearing Princess Louise’ chamber, they were stopped by a Musketeer familiar to d’Artagnan.

“What brings you here today, d’Artagnan?” Guarding the princess Corneul was all business and not as friendly as he usually was with the boy. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t seen the Dauphin behind the young Gascon. Therefore was taken aback when the child spoke up seemingly out of nowhere.

“We’re supposed to show the princess around the city,” Louis announced smartly. “Or, if she would prefer, to play croquet with us instead.” Scowling, Louis didn’t understand why neither of them could enter her chamber. Especially as he did so yesterday with no trouble at all.

"I don't see that happening right now." Scratching his head Corneul wasn’t sure how best to tell the boys what had occurred, for his words hadn't gone over well with the Dauphin. Catching d’Artagnan’s eye he realized the lad already figured out something bad must have taken place. Deciding he would tell them only so much, Corneul spoke in low tones. “There was an incident during the princess’ marriage blessing. Tis all I can say.”

Exchanging a long look with the Musketeer, d’Artagnan placed a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Do I assume that Princess Louise won’t be allowed outside today at all?”

“You have the right of it, d’Art.” Breathing a sigh of relief that he didn’t have to spell everything out in front of the young Dauphin, Corneul briefly smiled at the boy. “However, he frowned upon noting the Dauphin’s pout.

Stamping his feet, startling both his friend and the soldier, Louis was having none of it. “I want to see her!” Putting as much authority in his voice as his papa would be expected too, he wanted to be obeyed at once.

Taking exception to the child’s tone, Alex instantly jumped out of Louis’ arms to pad its way over to d’Artagnan. Rubbing up against his leg, Alex mewed its displeasure until the Gascon picked her up.

“Louis,” arching a brow, in the manner of papa Athos, d’Artagnan’s tone indicated to the younger boy that they’d discuss this later, “tis better to wait until things settle.”

“Oh all right.” Reaching out for Alex, Louis became all the more upset when the cat turned up its nose at him, preferring the comfort of d’Artagnan’s arms.

The Dauphin’s petulant voice reminded Corneul so much of His Majesty, when the king didn’t get his own way, that it made him want to laugh out loud. Which would never do, of course, for he didn’t think the young Dauphin was in much of a forgiving mood.

Bending low to speak in the young Gascon’s ear, Corneul whispered, “My thanks, d’Art.” As the duo left he figured, knowing the inseparables, that d’Artagnan would eventually find out from them what happened at Notre Dame.

++++

_Princess Louise’ chambers_

“By the time those fools figure out who the real target was,” dancing across the floor, Sophia was flying high, “our next victim will have been dealt with.”

“I doubt either the Musketeers or Red Guard are smart enough to work out for themselves what’s truly going on.” After eliminating Archbishop Jacqueme, Francesco was feeling very confident.

“Those imbeciles haven’t even discovered the missing body of Duc de Barville yet either.” Accepting a glass of champagne from her lover, Sophia sipped at it, letting the bubbles tickle her nose.

“Our other operative did his job well.” Filling his own glass of the bubbly liquid Francesco downed it all in one go, satisfying his thirst. “Gianni should be long gone from Paris about now.”

Reaching out a hand Sophia gently squeezed his arm. “Do not concern yourself with him, Francesco, all too soon we shall be following Gianni’s example as well.”

“With the amount of money we’re being paid to eliminate key figures of the king’s council,” placing his lips against her temple, Francesco’s breath teased her delicate skin, “we’ll be set for life.”

“One more to go,” she murmured quietly. “Though it would have been nice to know the reason for why we are doing this.”

“Who cares?” Grinning devilishly, Francesco continued placing kisses all over Sophia's face. “We’re hired to do a job. Not to ask questions to which we’re both better off not knowing the answers to.” Working his way down her face, Francesco nuzzled her neck. Pushing aside the delicate lace of her gown, exposing one alabaster shoulder, he kissed her tattoo.

Remembering the story Sophia had told him about it, his lips paid reverence to the mark. Smiling against her skin, Francesco placed another lingering kiss there. “Tell me again how you acquired this.” Tracing the pattern of the tattoo with a finger, he knew the story well but never tired of hearing it.

Pushing her gown back up, Sophia smiled impishly at him. “I was only ten when I witnessed something I shouldn’t have.” Going to sit down she folded her hands in her lap, a perfect picture of the demure young woman she was supposed to be. “Mio padre, unbeknownst to myself, was a hired assassin. I followed him one day when I was home from school.” Remembering the past, Sophia happily recounted what she had seen. “Very carefully padre followed a gentleman. I then saw him enter a building to go onto the roof where padre used a crossbow to kill his prey.”

Sophia's eyes brightened, glistening with wild happiness. “From that moment on that’s all I ever wanted to do.” Tapping her right shoulder, where her tattoo was, she continued. “When I was old enough I made inquiries and found a place that would make the type of mark I wanted.”

Sitting beside her, Francesco thought Sophia one of the most cleverest women he had ever met. “As a weapon, the arrow symbolizes the power of the person who carries it.” Smiling into her expressive face, he dipped his head. “I can’t think of another person more deserving of being powerful than you, amore mio.”

Pleased at his words, Sophia allowed herself a moment to relish it. When the moment had passed, she was back to the reason they now found themselves in Paris. “If all goes according to plan,” her eyes sparkled with anticipation, “by the time poor Chancellor Dupre realizes what is happening my arrow will be in his heart.”

++++

_Shortly after leaving the Louvre – Garrison courtyard_

Sitting alone at one of the benches, Alex curled up in his lap, d’Artagnan scouted the area for signs of the three men he had the privilege of growing up with. Running a hand over his cat’s back she began purring softly. “Looks like none of them are about, Alex.” Getting back up he headed for the stable to get his horse. “I wonder if Constance is at home.” Plopping Alex on top of his saddle d’Artagnan chuckled when Zad twisted his neck around to see what the lightweight object was. Upon noting it was only Alex, Zad snorted. Settling himself behind the bundle of fur d’Artagnan lightly pulled on the reins leading them out of the stable. “She always hears the best gossip.”

++++

_Notre Dame Cathedral_

“Coming back here had been a waste of our time.” Still not having come to terms with the archbishop’s death, Aramis tried to pull himself together.

“Yeah, only ta discover no one knows nothin’.” Fed up with questioning priests that haven’t a clue, Porthos pushed past both his friends.

“Only thing we have managed to discover was that a slim, dark figure had been seen dashing out of the cathedral about the time of Jacqueme’s death.” Athos too felt that their time could have been used more wisely elsewhere. But Treville wanted them here to see if there had been something, anything, to help in their investigation. The pitiful description given to them, by one of the younger clergymen, was of little help.

“With all this goin' on, we probably should have checked on d’Art.” Mounting Roulette Porthos waited for his other companions to follow suit. “I doubt 'e was allowed admittance ta the princess today afta what ‘appened.”

“Good point, mon ami. Especially with an assassin on the loose.” Riding to the left of Porthos, Aramis shared a concerned look with Athos. “No telling what trouble the lad could get into without our guidance.”

Snorting, Athos thought to himself that sometimes their _guidance_ wasn’t always quite up to snuff. “We have to get back to the Garrison anyway. Once I have given my report to the captain we will go check on d’Art.”

“Once just once I’d like ta see nothin’ go cock-eyed in this city!” Porthos griped. “Then I’d ‘ave enough time ta take care of things that really matter.”

Casually resting an arm across the pommel of his saddle, Aramis turned his head to catch Porthos' eye. Laughter was in his face, as he amusingly told Porthos his own viewpoint. “Let the world say you are crazy, then you are _free_ to do what you want, mon frere.”

“Like I want people ta think I’m nuts.” Swearing under his breath, Porthos broke away from the marksman putting Roulette in the lead.

“Aramis." Drawing the younger man’s name out slowly Athos gave him a stern glance, effectively quelling further pearls of wisdom that may sprout from his friend’s lips. But it was all for naught, as the marksman still wanted to have the last word.

"Athos, you know me well enough by now that when I have something to say I don't hold back." Eyes still holding a hint of laughter in them Aramis could tell his brother's resolve to remain irritated with him was weakening. “I speak my mind… because it hurts to bite my tongue.”

"I do not know which one of you is more incorrigible," head hanging down, for but a moment, when Athos lifted it back up his eyes too held a hint of amusement within them from Aramis' words, "you or our son."

"Though d'Art doesn't truly share my blood we have quite a few similarities." Grinning cheekily at Athos, Aramis tipped his chapeau at the older man. "Wouldn't you say, mon frere?"

A mock shudder was the only indication Athos gave that indicated he had heard the marksman's words. Listening to Aramis chuckling, he observed the younger man urging Belle forward to catch up to Porthos. Probably going to attempt soothing the savage beast.

++++

_Constance' house_

Opening her door Constance was surprised to find d'Artagnan standing there, Alex glued to his side.

"Why aren't you at the palace with Princess Louise?" As the boy entered the main room, Alex made a beeline for a comfortable looking chair near the fireplace. "She certainly knows what she likes," Constance mused. "That's my favorite place to relax." Glancing at d'Artagnan, she waited to find out what had happened.

"Louis and I weren't allowed to see her. Corneul simply told us that there was an incident during the princess' marriage blessing."

Placing a hand over her mouth, Constance' shock was evident. "I had no idea." Walking over to a metal form, holding an elaborately bejeweled dress, she continued working on it. "I've been too busy altering the queen's ball gown."

Disappointed that Constance couldn't shed light on what happened, d'Artagnan tried not to let it show. He thought, since she was allowed to roam freely about the palace, that Constance would certainly have known more than himself. "Louis was very upset that we couldn't spend the day with the princess. As a matter of fact so was I," d'Artagnan added more as an afterthought on his part. He really had been looking forward to it, surprisingly so.

"He is only a child of seven after all." Placing several pins around the hem of the gown, Constance got up from where she had been kneeling. "Louis had more than likely been looking forward to a break in the monotony of palace life." When d'Artagnan stared at her strangely, Constance' laughter rang out within the small room. "It doesn't take a genius to put myself in the petit's shoes."

"I hope we can see Princess Louise on the morrow at least." Crossing over to where Constance stood, d'Artagnan admired her sewing skill with pride. "Everything you do you do quite well."

Smiling back at him, Constance was pleased to hear his praise. "Tis nice to be appreciated." Steering the youngster toward he kitchen she pointed to an empty chair. "Since your plans have changed, d'Art, did you stop at the canteen to get some lunch?" At the negative shake of the lad's head, Constance walked over to the stove. "This just came out of the oven a half an hour ago. So tis still warm." Placing a platter filled with roasted chicken on the table, she too sat down.

As both of them dug into their meal it was then that Alex jumped upon the table, eyeing the chicken with a hungry gleam in her eyes.

"Oh I know that look." Though Constance' tone made one think she was irritated with the cat, actually she didn't mind. "Get back on the floor, Alex, and I'll feed you too."

Instantly obeying her, Alex lept to the floor in a flash sniffing at the feast placed before her.

"Nice to know that I'm not the only one spoiling Alex rotten." Watching his pet devour the food, d'Artagnan chuckled. "One would think that I wasn't feeding her."

"Alex' appetite rivals Porthos'... it never ends." Her comment made the boy laugh so hard that his eyes began tearing up. "Anyway Alex knows I'm a pushover where she's concerned." Going back to her meal, Constance shot d'Artagnan a curious look. "Perhaps you shall learn what occurred this morn from Athos."

"Or Aramis," he supplied.

"Or Porthos." Amused at their exchange, she continued eating. Catching Alex licking her lips, Constance knew the feline had enjoyed the chicken. "I should be finishing up the queen's dress shortly. After I deliver it to her perhaps she'll be able to tell me what took place at the cathedral." Winking at d'Artagnan she added, "Just in case your papas aren't allowed to tell you."

"Constance, you are a gem of the finest quality." Beaming at her d'Artagnan rushed through the remainder of his lunch, now in a hurry to be home to see if indeed his papas would answer his questions.

"I wish others thought as much," she sighed. "Perhaps I'd be married by now."

Thinking of the past, when d'Artagnan had been only three years of age, somehow he had the idea that papa Aramis was going to marry Constance. Upon hearing her discontented words now, he wondered if she had someone particular in mind.

++++

_Notes:_

_Mio padre_ – Italian for: my father  
_Amore mio_ – Italian for: my love

_Quote: “Let the world say you are crazy, then you are free to do what you want.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "I speak my mind... because it hurts to bite my tongue."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

An _Arrow_ is a symbol of flight, penetration and direction. As a weapon, the arrow is a symbol of power of the person who carries it, along with the bow or in this case… a crossbow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that have already read chapters 2-3, there has been a slight change which you will start to see here as well. I had totally forgotten that the fake princess’ name was revealed at the end of the show’s episode. Thanks to NotNecessarilyInthatOrder she told me she thought it had been mentioned. I went to re-watch that part and yup, her name was Sophia Martinez.  
> So that none of you get confused... when she is playing her role Sophia will be in the character of Princess Louise in thoughts and deeds. When simply being herself, of course, you will see her being referred to as Sophia.  
> I didn’t think it right to go through the rest of the chapters that contain her to call her Louise when she had another name. LOL!  
> I can’t believe that I had forgotten what had been revealed in the show in the first place.  
> My bad and, of course, apologies for anyone confused.
> 
> See note at bottom.

_Same day, mid afternoon – Captain Treville’s office_

After giving his report to Treville, Athos was examining the crossbow and arrow that had been confiscated at the church. Evidently the assassin either grew careless or simply didn’t care if he had left his weapons behind. “The craftsmanship looks familiar.” Studying the tip of the arrow, Athos’ eyes narrowed on the way it was made.

“Lemay Boucher’s work, which you should be aware of yourself.” Standing beside his lieutenant, Treville’s head was bent over the crossbow as he too examined it. “I believe you’ve commissioned a few things in the past from the fellow.” Receiving nothing but a grunt in response from the younger man, he continued. “While you three were still at the cathedral I paid a visit to Boucher.”

“Was he of any help?” Placing the arrow back down on the table Athos leaned a hip against the edge of it.

Unconsciously running a finger back and forth over his chin, lips pursed, Treville nodded his head. “He said something most curious.”

Arching a brow Athos folded his arms, tilting his head to the side listening to what the captain had to disclose.

“Boucher mentioned that a cache of weapons had been confiscated at La Rochelle by Red Guards and certain,” clearing his throat, Treville gave the younger man an ironic look, “items, shall we say, found their way into Boucher’s hands.” Tapping a finger upon his desk, he blew out a long breath.

“Do you believe there may be a rogue agent within the Palais-Cardinal?”

“I don’t know what to think at this juncture, Athos.” Rubbing a hand over a brow, Treville frowned. “What I do know is that I know nothing.” Frustrated, Treville pulled out his chair and sat down.

"Did Monsieur Boucher remember whom he acquired those weapons from?" This was not news that Athos had been pleased to hear.

"One of his partners received them and couldn't describe whom he had purchased them from to save his life." Staring at his folded hands, Treville's mind replayed the horrendous events of this morn.

"Perhaps if that man's life was threatened," Athos smirked, "his tune would change."

Smiling back at him, Treville pondered Athos' idea. "It has merit. We yet may have to pay Boucher another visit." Rubbing his forehead this time, Treville prayed the headache he felt threatening to blossom would be of short duration.

"If there is nothing else for the moment we wanted to go check on d'Art."

"The lad went to see Constance." Noting surprise register on his lieutenant's face, Treville wondered at it. "Rene told me that d'Artagnan waited for a short time in the courtyard for you three before he left."

Chapeau dangling in his hand Athos then placed it on his head. "Then we shall be paying Constance a visit next." Dipping his head Athos said, "My thanks, Captain."

++++

_Royal Palace - Princess Louise' chambers_

"Soph..." Fingertips brushed against his lips stopping the flow of words from escaping. Puzzled, Francesco stared into Sophia's lovely eyes.

"Don't speak my name," she whispered. "I thought I heard someone at the door just now." Glancing behind her at the closed door to her room, Sophia pushed her lover toward one of the windows. "The hallways seem to be overflowing with guards of both the king and cardinal." Looking out the window at the scenery, Sophia chewed her lower lip. "Every time I've poked my head out the door the guards seem to multiply.

"What did you expect after the archbishop's death?" Pulling her forward Francesco rested his chin on top of Sophia's head. "That there would be dancing in the corridors." With her head nestled underneath his chin, he felt laughter shaking Sophia's body.

Playfully hitting out at his chest, Sophia gently pushed him away. "On the plus side I didn't have to worry about losing at croquet."

"I completely forgot about the children." A bit sad that he would not get to see Sophia deal with the young Gascon and Dauphin, Francesco noticed a sudden change come over her face.

"What you did _forget_ were your weapons at the church." Sitting down Sophia gazed up into Francesco's face, a frown marring his handsome features.

"I had to make a run for it and couldn't afford being weighed down with them," he explained. "Guards were spread out all over the church."

"Lucky for us I brought spares." With a motion of her head, Sophia indicated her bridal chest.

"When is the chancellor to arrive?" Playing with the curls on her head, Francesco lowered his own to lightly catch the floral scent of Sophia's hair.

"From what Cardinal Richelieu told me it will be around noon tomorrow." When Francesco's brows drew together, Sophia smiled. "Don't worry so. We've come this far... haven't we?" When her lover didn't say anything she said, "Besides, when have we ever failed, amore mio?"

"Considering the sum we were paid we can't afford to _fail_." Walking over to a small table, holding a bottle of wine and several empty glasses, Francesco poured them both a drink. "Care to toast to our coming success?"

Bouncing up from her seat, Sophia danced her way over to him. "I thought you'd never ask."

++++

_Constance's house_

After they had eaten a late lunch, Constance had gone back to working on Queen Anne's gown. In the meantime there had been several chores needing done that had gone to the wayside. Fortunately for her, d'Artagnan volunteered his services. He ended up delivering several bolts of material to a few of Constance's clients that had placed orders with her. Then d'Artagnan had kindly offered to make some purchases she needed at the markets. By the time he had accomplished those tasks, the light of day was fading fast.

When d'Artagnan arrived back, Constance insisted that he not ride home since it had grown dark. Earlier the youngster had told her that the Musketeer Rene knew where he had been headed after d'Artagnan left the Garrison. So it was only a matter of time before the inseparables came knocking at her door.

Shortly, thereafter, Constance was not the least surprised when a brief rap upon her door came. Opening it up she waved the three men inside.

Upon entering the young woman's home, the inseparables removed their chapeaus. Taking their time they looked about the room until they spotted their son curled up asleep on a comfortable, cushioned sofa.

The inseparables then all turned to stare at Constance, a question brewing on their lips.

"He did me the favor of running errands for me today." She spoke softly so as not to wake the boy.

"We're glad ya didn't let the runt go back ta our place afta dark?"

"Like I would do that, Porthos." Snorting, she shook a finger at the giant.

"I believe one of us will have to ride double with the lad." Amused blue eyes passed over his brother's faces. Raising a hand, he grinned. "I volunteer, of course." Snickers could be heard within the room. Oh Athos realized that his friends would figure that he'd be the first to step forward.

"I'll go tie Tempest's reins to Belle's. Won't take but a minute." Aramis was out the door before a word could be said.

"I guess I better pick up the kid and 'elp get 'im up on Roger for ya, Athos."

Standing side-by-side, Constance and Athos watched while Porthos picked up the sleeping youngster.

"It always amazes me that for the size of his bulk how quietly Porthos can move." Smiling at the picture the dark-skinned Musketeer made carrying the young Gascon, Constance glanced sideways at the silent man beside her. "His big frame holds a tender heart as well."

"Do not tell him that," Athos drawled. "My brother has an image to maintain after all." Constance's soft chuckles drew an answering smile from him as well. Pressing her hand, Athos bent over it to place a light kiss there. "Our thanks for keeping d'Art out of trouble."

"I'm only a woman, Athos. I don't have special powers to keep the lad out of harm's way." Adding under her breath that she only wished she could, Constance followed Athos to the door.

"Could have fooled me, Constance." He wanted to laugh at the confused look that crossed her pretty face. "I've always thought you had wonderful powers of persuasion." Dodging away from the hand that attempted to swat at his rear Athos headed for Roger.

++++

_The inseparable's home_

They all arrived back without incident. Once more Porthos found himself carrying his sleeping son. Entering the house he went straight to the kid's room. Settling d'Artagnan on the bed Porthos left Athos and Aramis to deal with getting the whelp out of his clothes and into a nightshirt.

Between fumbles and mumbles the duo got the lad undressed. Aramis grabbed d'Artagnan's nightshirt and, with Athos' help, they made short work of it.

During all of this, d'Artagnan sort of woke up but was so tired his eyelids felt weighed down. He did manage to slowly crack one eye open at a time. It was then he noted both of his papas were with him. "I've got," he yawned hugely, "questions." Feeling a kiss on his forehead, d'Artagnan snuggled under the covers and closed his eyes. Completely forgetting all about his _questions_.

"The pup was up before the crack of dawn this morn." Tracing a finger over his mustache Aramis watched Alex jump upon the boy's bed to curl up near d'Artagnan's head. "He wanted to finish up his chores as soon as he could so no time would be wasted to see the princess."

"It all caught up to him after helping Constance out." Leaning against the wall Aramis observed his son sleeping the sleep of the innocent. He prayed that innocence would not become tarnished for some time to come. "I wonder what his questions were."

"Tis been too long a day for me to dwell upon that," Athos remarked. "The morn will come soon enough and so will the child's questions." Closing the door quietly behind him, d'Aragnan slept on.

++++

_The following morning_

Breakfast found the inseparables with a chattering magpie on their hands. D'Artagnan kept badgering them about what exactly happened at Princess Louise' marriage blessing.

Mumbling between bites of his toast, d'Artagnan wasn't satisfied with the answers he received thus far.

"Kid, don't talk while foods hangin' outta your mouth." Shaking his head at the whelp, Porthos continued eating. "It's only good etiquette."

"Since when do you understand etiquette, mon frere?" An amused grin graced Aramis' features as he teased the bigger man.

Waving a fork in the air, Porthos growled. "Don't be gettin' on that high horse of yours ya love ta ride, Mis."

"Mon ami," clasping his hands to his chest, Aramis refrained from laughing at the outrage on his brother's face, "I leave _high horse riding_ to our friend Athos."

Listening to this exchange, usually was a normal thing for him. Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan pushed up from his chair. "Papa Athos, do you think Louis and I would be able to go see the princess today."

"Someone's got a crush," Aramis whispered into Athos' ear.

Tuning out Aramis' words, Athos gave the boy's question serious consideration. "I doubt it, lad. Not with things the way they are." Ah, he could see his son wasn't pleased with his response. "Until the assassin of Archbishop Jacqueme is found she won't be safe."

"On top of all that," Porthos' deep voice broke in, "Chancellor Dupre is expected today."

"We have to make sure the Louvre is secure for all concerned." Having prepared breakfast this morn, Aramis went back to the kitchen followed by d'Artagan who offered to help clean up. Glancing at the boy, he became disturbed upon noting a certain look crossing the lad's young face. Last time Aramis had seen that particular expression he and his brothers had to pull their pup out of a deep well that d'Artagnan, and his other friends, had been playing around. "Promise me to not do anything foolhardy."

"Foolhardy, papa?" Playing innocent, d'Artagnan canted his head to the right shooting papa Aramis a questioning look. "I don't understand."

Trouble was, Aramis thought, their youngest understood all too well. "Go see if the others need anything done before you go to the palace."

Knowing papa was on edge after what happened at the cathedral, d’Artagnan had something to say that he hoped would make him happy. “Monsieur Maigny told me that my lessons are coming along very well.”

“Tis good to know, lad.” Entering the kitchen, behind Porthos, Athos responded before his friend could.

Ruffling his son’s hair Aramis grinned as the boy pulled away, exasperation on d'Artagnan's face. "Who knows, d'Artagnan, but one day you could become captain of the Musketeers.”

“Yeah, runt.” Placing a heavy hand on the kid’s shoulder, Porthos winked at d’Artagnan. “Takes more than wielding a sword ta lead the king’s regiment. Ya 'ave ta be smart." Lowering his voice, Porthos whispered in his son's ear. "I think Mis got left outta the brains department, if'n ya know what I mean." Then a loud yelp escaped him, when Porthos was struck with a kitchen towel snapped smartly at his face.

"That's for telling lies to our son." Going back to tidying up the kitchen, Aramis winked at d'Artagnan. "The pup knows very well who has the brains in the family."

"Papa Athos," d'Artagnan chirped. "He is, after all, Captain Treville's lieutenant." When both papa Porthos and Aramis rolled their eyes back at him, d'Artagnan began to laugh

Lips twitching at the exchange taking place, Athos looked at his son. “I'm very pleased that Monsieur Maigny is happy with your progress. At first I was not certain twas a good thing to take up King Louis’ suggestion in having you tutored alongside his son at the palace.” When Athos and the others had first been approached by His Majesty about this, he had been the only one who hesitated in accepting the king’s kind offer. “But it would appear all is turning out as it should be.”

“I agree. Seems ta ‘ave been a good idea afta all.” Having eyed a bowl of fruit sitting by itself on the kitchen table, Porthos reached out for an orange only to have his hand slapped by a scowling Aramis.

“You just had breakfast!” Snapping at the larger man, Aramis began muttering under his breath about a certain person with a bottomless pit for a stomach.

“Papa Porthos, do you need anything done before I leave? My lessons won’t begin for a few hours yet.”

“Our horses ‘aven’t been fed yet.” Still keeping one eye on that orange he wanted, Porthos gave a cursory look at the whelp since his concentration still centered on eating.

“Is that all?” Looking at papa Athos, d’Artagnan noted that his parent seemed lost in thought. “Papa?”

A hard shove to his shoulder nearly unseated Athos from the chair he sat upon. A raised brow at Porthos indicated his irritation with the other man. When it appeared his brother was about to say something, Athos gave him a rather long look quelling further words Porthos would have uttered.

“Porthos was simply trying to gain your attention,” Aramis pointed out. “D’Art asked you a question.”

Grimacing, Athos realized his mind had wandered. “Apologies, lad, what was it you asked?”

Knowing weighty issues were on papa’s mind, d’Artagnan tried not to be annoyed at him. “Aside from giving the horses their feed were there any other chores I need to do before I go.”

Rubbing his chin, Athos’ gaze went from Aramis and then to Porthos. Neither man had anything to add. “I would like to see them groomed but that would take up too much of your time. We do not want Monsieur Maigny to become upset with your tardiness.”

“I could do so when I return.” With an eager nod at all of them, d’Artagnan scurried out of the kitchen.

“I didn’t want to say anything until d’Art left,” dark eyes filled with worry, Aramis’ lips tightened fractionally, “but my concern is that perhaps the palace isn’t the safest place for the pup to be at present.”

“There’s so many guards over there now that they’re literally fallin’ all over one another.” When Aramis turned away from him Porthos took advantage to snag his orange, hiding it in the inside pocket of his doublet. Seeing Athos’ hiding a smile behind his hand, Porthos knew his older brother would keep silent. “Nearly tripped over Bousard and Guychenot myself yesterday.”

“I know Bousard,” Athos remarked. “But Guychenot is not a name I’m familiar with.”

“’E’s a new Red Guard the cardinal ‘ad commissioned recently.”

“Richelieu’s been doing a lot of that lately.” A rueful look crossed Aramis' features. "I believe he’s adding to the ranks ever since the archbishop’s untimely end.” Crossing himself, Aramis gave up a silent prayer for Jacqueme’s soul.

“Sounds like the Louvre is fortified for any contingency.” Standing back up, Athos glanced at his friends. “Bien, then what could go wrong?”

++++

_A few hours later at the Royal Palace_

“The chancellor should be arriving soon.” Going over to where Sophia sat fixing her hair Francesco leaned down to place a kiss on the side of her neck. “I’ll take care of any guards unfortunate to follow you once you've left here.”

Bright laughing eyes caught the dark ones of her lover. “I have no worries as long as I have you.” Getting up Sophia walked over to the bridal chest and opened it up. Selecting the crossbow and arrows she would need Sophia lowered the lid. “I just thought of an idea, Francesco.” Going over to one end of the room, toward where a huge bookshelf was located, her slender fingers felt around its side until Sophia found a slight protrusion. Pressing against it the bookshelf slowly slid aside to expose a secret exit. Smiling impishly, she caught Francesco’s stunned expression. “Palaces are notorious for secret passage ways. I forgot to tell you that I had found this one.”

“Then you could use this to leave unnoticed,” he exclaimed in delight. “Once free of here you could gain your vantage point to target Chancellor Dupre.” Very pleased with this he gave Sophia a swift kiss. “My leaving your room will be no cause for alarm either as the guards are used to me coming and going. I'll then be able to make my way outside positioning myself to take down anyone that may interfere with our plans.”

Before slipping away in the tunnels, Sophia glanced over her shoulder at Francesco. “It should take only one shot and then we can be on our way.”

Her face filled with the excitement of the hunt, she disappeared down the winding passageway. Waiting until he couldn't see Sophia's figure any longer, Francesco pressed the side of the bookshelf exactly as his lover had watching it slide back into place.

++++

Upon his arrival at the palace, d’Artagnan found out that Monsieur Maigny was under the weather. Therefore there would be no lessons to learn. With a good portion of the day at his disposal, he and young Louis went exploring.

Louis motioned for his friend to follow him back inside his own room. “Papa thinks I don’t know about this but,” getting on his knees before the fireplace, he pushed one of the bricks inward. There was a clicking sound and then a panel of one wall quietly slid open.

Eyes lighting up with the anticipation of new things to explore, he clapped a hand on the child's shoulder. “Oh I like this idea, Louis. I like it very much indeed.” Holding out his hand to the younger boy, d’Artagnan took the lead. “This is much more fun than learning history and solving math problems.”

Giggling low, Louis’ head bobbed up and down in agreement. “I never had the nerve to go in the tunnels all by myself.”

“Now you have me.” Tugging Louis along behind him, d’Artagnan wondered what discoveries they'd find.

++++

_Note:_

_Amore mio_ \- Italian for: my love


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day and time – Royal Palace_

_The Dauphin’s chambers_

Stepping into the tunnel, d'Artagnan wondered how they were going to see their way through the passageway. Squinting his eyes he thought he saw a faint glow flickering up ahead which brought a smile to his face. Glancing down at his young friend, he lightly tapped Louis' shoulder. "Go press that mechanism over there on the wall to close the bookshelf shut, unless you want everyone to discover where we went." Instantly, Louis went to do as d'Artagnan had asked without question.

When darkness covered them, Louis became wary of what they were doing. At first this sounded like a lot of fun, but now that he could barely make out anything he was about to change his tune. "D'Art, how are we to see?"

"Do you see that glow up ahead?" Receiving a nod from his young friend, d'Artagnan took Louis' hand. It was a short walk to where a single torch resided inside a wall sconce. "We should have realized there would be torches within these tunnels, otherwise no one would be able to navigate their way through them without getting completely lost."

Reaching up d'Artagnan removed the torch from the sconce. Now that they had light, he released Louis' hand. Walking down the narrow tunnel d'Artagnan noted various sconces decorated the walls. Some had unlit torches in them while others were empty. So whenever he and Louis wanted to enter a room d'Artagnan simply placed his torch in an available sconce.

Continuing on their way, they stopped every so often whenever they located a mechanism on the walls that would lead them to someone's room or a corridor. They took their time, having fun popping in and out of various rooms. Since Louis’ room was situated close to his parents, the first room they entered ended up being Queen Anne's. Fortunately she wasn’t there or would have had a fright. Next one they encountered was King Louis’ and, once again, it had been empty. Also a good thing or young Louis, and d’Artagnan, would have been severely scolded.

It was funny when he pondered upon it. Having literally grown up in the palace, d’Artagnan knew most of the rooms. Of course he had known there were secret passages within the Louvre. He even knew a few of them but was truly surprised, though he shouldn’t have been once he gave it more thought, that there was one in Louis’. The child himself hadn’t known about it until recently.

“Good thing you didn’t bring Alex along,” Louis whispered. “Her mewling would have gotten us caught in no time.”

“The reason I don't bring her along whenever we have our lessons is because Monsieur Maigny doesn’t want distractions,” d’Artagnan replied. “But also because I believe he said something about being allergic to her fur.”

Pondering that, Louis nodded his head. “He does always sneeze and cough whenever Alex is around.”

For the next hour the boys had fun trying to figure out where they were, when they stepped into empty rooms. One wasn’t quite so empty, as the two youngsters discovered. Upon entering it they missed seeing a maid just leaving to slip past the door. Roaming about the room neither of them recognized it. Stepping out onto the balcony, however, was another story as they gazed upon the Royal Gardens. This at least gave them an idea of their bearings. Tiptoeing toward the door they quietly opened it up to step into the hall. It was there that the maid, who had been putting away clean sheets into a linen closet, saw them and nearly had a heart attack.

“Where did you two come from?” Céline nearly shrieked. “Thought at first I was seeing ghosts.” She wouldn’t have been surprised if she had, since the palace had been rife with rumors of being haunted.

“Apologies for your fright, Mademoiselle.” Bowing his head, d’Artagnan prayed she wouldn’t get them into trouble. “We’re just exploring.”

“Our lessons were canceled due to our teacher’s illness,” Louis added.

“Oh all right then. Just make sure you’re both careful running about.” Thinking of her own near disaster, Céline certainly didn’t want to see any harm come to the Dauphin or the young Gascon. “I have to report some loose floor tile on this level. Nearly took a spill myself.”

“We will,” d’Artagnan said. “Our thanks for your warning.” Waiting for the maid to disappear, he turned Louis around to head back into the room they had just vacated. Once inside, they disappeared back into the tunnels.

“We were almost caught that time, d’Art.” Even though that nearly happened, Louis was still having the most fun he’s had in quite a while.

“Perhaps we’ll just see where we wind up next and then call it quits. I don’t want to end up being reprimanded for taking you inside these tunnels.” Worrying his lower lip, d'Artagnan found that their fun had begun to wane slightly the more he dwelled upon the consequences that could befall him.

About ten minutes later they found themselves facing another secret entrance. Securing his torch once again in another sconce, d'Artagnan intended after this for them both to simply roam about the palace in a normal manner. Finding themselves stepping out into an empty corridor neither of them recognized any of the architecture so that they could pinpoint their location.

It ended up though that they weren't as alone as they thought. For a flash of skirts caught the corner of d’Artagnan’s eye and, of course, he became most curious. Nudging Louis in the back, d’Artagnan pointed toward another room where the feminine figure had disappeared into. “I thought I saw someone going into that room. Let’s check it out.”

“If there is they’ll wonder why we’re there.” A slightly worried tone was in Louis’ voice, ever since their encounter with that frightened maid.

“We’ll simply tell them exactly what we’re doing,” d’Artagnan smiled. “We’ve been exploring. Simple as that.” Not waiting to see if the child was going to say anything further, d’Artagnan followed the route the woman had gone. At least he thought it had been a woman. A man certainly wouldn’t be caught dead wearing women’s clothing.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, d’Artagnan stepped into the room. Feeling Louis bump into him from behind, he turned around to pull the child beside him. It was then that d’Artagnan got a quick look at whom he had followed. Having a view of only the backside of the person, he knew instantly it was Princess Louise.

What she was doing here puzzled d’Artagnan greatly as the princess was as far away from her own room as one could get, with no guards anywhere in sight. Either was a dangerous position Princess Louise had put herself in. But it was then that d’Artagnan noted what she was holding. It appeared to be a crossbow, fully armed, and aimed out the window where the princess stood.

And then d'Artagnan had an epiphany. Papa Aramis would have been so proud. It was today that Chancellor Dupre was due to arrive at the palace. It didn't take him long after that to realize that he was a witness to an assassination attempt. Quietly as possible, twisting around, d'Artagnan pushed Louis back out the door. Whispering fiercely into the child's ear he said, "Stay out of sight. No matter what you hear in there."

"But, d'Art, wasn't that the princess?" Voice trembling, Louis tried hard not to be frightened. Though by the sound of his friend's troubled tone it made him realize something bad was about to occur.

"I have a feeling she might not be the princess everyone had been expecting." Not going into detail, he glanced at his young friend. "You know what? I changed my mind." Putting both hands on Louis' shoulders, d'Artagnan turned the boy away from him. With a gentle push to child's back, to get Louis going, he continued speaking low. "I want you to run as fast as you can and get help."

Stretching up, throwing his arms around d'Artagnan's neck, Louis squeezed tightly. "Be safe." Watching his friend go back inside, Louis did the exact opposite of what d'Artagnan asked of him. He would not abandon his _brother_. For tis what d'Artagnan was to Louis. So he found a small niche, just his size, to hide away in. Praying silently, his eyes never strayed from the room.

++++

There was Dupre's carriage. Smiling to herself, Sophia lifted her crossbow to line up her target. Watching the carriage come to a halt, she knew Francesco was already down there to take care of any Musketeers or Red Guards stupid enough to get in the way. Though Sophia had a moment's regret when she spied the men riding alongside the carriage as escort.

Remembering their names, she silently recited them. Athos... Porthos... Aramis. The last one made her grin. Grant you all of them were nice to look at, but Aramis' features were very pleasing to her eyes. It had been quite amusing for Sophia, as the Musketeer had tried very hard to make a lasting impression on her. She was sure that Aramis excelled at making an _impression_ on most of the women he met.

Knowing that when they fought to protect the chancellor, and they would, she couldn't afford even the tiniest feelings of sadness at their demise. Francesco would take care of them. Of that Sophia had no doubt. They were both skilled at their jobs. Shaking her thoughts off Sophia concentrated on her prey, not realizing that she was no longer alone.

Timing was everything, or so papa Aramis had always told d'Artagnan. Observing Princess Louise, or whomever she was, pulling back on her crossbow ready to release her arrow, d'Artagnan tackled her to the floor. They ended up in a tangle of skirts and leathers. Managing to loose the crossbow from her hands d'Artagnan kicked it clear across the floor. The weapon landed with a resounding bang against a paneled wall. Thinking that this would be the end to it, d'Artagnan was sadly mistaken when he felt the sharp tip of a poignard settle against his vulnerable neck.

Sophia's arrow had missed its mark, thanks to whomever had caught her unawares. Having been brought down to the ground, she ended up in a tussle with her attacker. Rolling out from underneath the body on top of her, Sophia was stunned to see who it actually was. "D'Artagnan!" Here Sophia thought that she had been wrestling with one of the guards only to find the young Gascon instead. "You were quite an unexpected surprise. In other circumstances I could have found this amusing."

Blowing a piece of hair out of her face, she stared at the youngster. To think a mere child took her down. If Francesco had been here, he would be laughing his face off. At Sophia's thoughts of her lover, she heard shots coming from outside. Without the Musketeers frantically trying to revive a dead chancellor, her Francesco would now gain all the attention. There would be no chance for him to get away to join her in their escape. Sophia was on her own.

The Musketeers hadn't seen her but they knew where the shot had come from. Sophia had to make her getaway now but what to do with the boy? The only thing she could think of was to bring him with her. He would be her ticket out of Paris, if there were problems with her escape. Especially if Sophia expected to get out of this alive. "All right, my young friend, since you've just spoiled all my plans it's only right that I make use of you."

Standing up she motioned for d'Artagnan to do so as well. "There's a series of tunnels under the Louvre where the dungeons are." Ah, the child seemed surprised at her knowledge. "I'm always prepared or I wouldn't be any good at what I do." Normally Sophia would have felt quite smug, but nothing had gone according to plan. Plus the pain of losing Francesco would take time to get over as well. "You and I will take that route so that I can make my way out of the palace without being seen."

"What happens to me after you get out of the city?" Gaining his feet d'Artagnan could only stare at the weapon in her hand.

"Once I'm away from Paris you'll be of no more use to me and I'll release you." The youngster didn't appear convinced that Sophia was telling the truth.

"I'm supposed to believe that?" he scoffed.

"I don't make a habit of killing children." Making the boy walk in front of her, they made their way out of the room.

Eyes looking left and right d'Artagnan was relieved not to see Louis anywhere around. Although he had told the child to leave and get aid d'Artagnan hadn't been quite sure the stubborn Dauphin would listen. So not seeing Louis following them, d'Artagnan figured his friend was safe and sound. Nothing else mattered more to him, at this moment, than the petit's life.

“Follow my directions and we’ll soon be out of here.” Prodding d’Artagnan in the back with her poignard, Sophia guided him down a back staircase that had seen little use. They wound their way down to the bottom to a section of the palace also rarely used. Which meant of course there would be no guards present, making Sophia’s escape that much easier.

Walking past the dark, dank cells that hadn’t seen signs of life in who knows how long, Sophia urged the boy to keep going. Knowing that she was leaving half her heart behind with her lover, there was nothing for it, unless Sophia too wanted to join Francesco whether that be in life or death. He would either be a captive now, at the hands of the Musketeers, or they had killed him. Most likely the latter as Francesco had once told her that he would never be taken alive.

“For someone new to the palace you seemed remarkably astute as to the location of the Louvre’s less traveled areas.” D’Artagnan still didn’t know her real name and refused to call her _princess_ any longer. Though, when he thought upon it, he guessed it really didn’t matter much anyway.

Chuckling, Sophia wondered when d’Artagnan would ask her that. “You could say that I’ve done my homework.” She continued leading him through the series of tunnels that would eventually grant her exit into the city. Beginning to see some light up ahead, Sophia grew excited. “Soon you shall no longer have to concern yourself with me.”

“Parting is such sweet sorrow." Sarcasm dripped from d'Artagnan's voice.

“Ah, you know your Shakespeare.” Giving the youngster an approving nod, Sophia's head tilted to the right as she studied d'Artagnan. “Did you know that the plot of Romeo and Juliet was based on an Italian tale that was translated into verse? It was called The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet."

"I only know the story because tis a favorite of papa Aramis. He would always go around the house reciting certain passages from it."

"Your papa showed good taste. From what I remember of him during my short time in his company," she chuckled, "Aramis left me feeling that he was more the romantic hero type."

She certainly called that one correctly. Papa Aramis must have managed to leave an impression on her. Later, when this was all over, d'Artagnan would have to tell papa all about this conversation. "I don't know if you'll tell me the truth or not," he twisted his head around so he could see her reaction, "but what is your true name since I now know you're not the real Princess Louise."

"Ah, my young friend," waving her poignard in the air, Sophia's eyes sparkled with mischief, "I don't know if I could trust you with my secret."

"Of course I can keep a secret." Eyes veering away from her, he snickered. "Tis the people I tell it to who can't."

"Oh, d'Artagnan, I shall miss you," Sophia laughed. "It was a shame that we couldn't have had more time together."

"That could always be changed," d'Artagnan added cheekily.

"Ah, yes." Rolling her eyes Sophia said, "By throwing me in your Chatelet no doubt." They were nearing the exit as it was growing brighter up ahead. Not encountering any problems so far, Sophia was thinking of letting the boy go now instead of releasing him once she had made her way into the city. That was until a noise behind her gave her pause.

++++

_Outside the Royal Palace where a little used back entrance was located  
_

Having successfully protected Chancellor Dupre from going the way of the poor archbishop, Aramis and Athos conducted their charge safely inside the palace.

Evidently there had only been one shooter and another person located somewhere inside the palace. Having adequately defended themselves, the inseparables assumed the assassin had run out of ammunition since there had been a lack of weapons fire after a prolonged silence. Apparently whomever had fired upon them hadn’t counted on an extensive fight. More fool he then.

This left Porthos free to deal with the murderous canaille. Catching sight of the assassin’s dark caped figure, he gave chase until he cornered the man. Crossing swords, it didn’t take long to realize who had the upper hand in the fight. Being the bigger, and much stronger, of the two Porthos had the assassin flattened up against a wall in short order. “ _Surrender or die!_ ” The other man hadn't uttered a word. Just grabbed hold of the blade Porthos held and guided it inside his own chest.

For his own part, Porthos wasn’t shocked by the assassin’s actions. Perhaps he lived by his own code or else the man didn’t want to face his employer in disgrace. Watching the assassin draw his last breath, Porthos wasted no time lingering. Leaving the body behind, he went in search of his brothers.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "Of course I can keep a secret. It's the people I tell it to who can't."_ \- from Aunty Acid

The part mentioned about Romeo and Juliet was true. It was based on an Italian tale that was translated into verse. Called The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, very late morning now_

_We left off with Sophia and d'Artagnan in the lower tunnels of the Louvre_

"What was that?" Sophia whispered to d'Artagnan, as if the youngster would tell her if he had heard the sound.

"Probably _rats_." Enjoying having said that, d'Artagnan was disappointed when he didn't get a rise out of her.

"Rats on two feet no doubt." Turning back to him, Sophia poked him in the back again with her poignard to get the boy moving. "I'm too close to getting out of here to back track and find out what that was." Taking several steps forward she halted in her tracks when, once again, Sophia heard a noise coming from behind.

Deciding, then and there, to confront whomever it was Sophia shouted out. "You may as well show yourselves! But I'll warn you now that I have young d'Artagnan here! If you don't want to see him come to any harm I'd suggest you go back the way you came and leave us alone! I don't really want to hurt him but I will if my life is threatened in any way!"

Not getting any reply, and since no one stepped forward to introduce themselves, Sophia assumed whomever it was took her at her word. Either that or d'Artagnan was right and it had only been the rats looking for their next meal. "Keep going," she urged the youngster. "Whatever you may think of me I do keep my word. The sooner we get out of here and into the city I'll release you."

Walking ahead d'Artagnan had a question on his lips. Figuring it wouldn't hurt he asked, "Were you working alone or did you have an accomplice?"

"I had... I had...," her throat threatened to close up on her as Sophia tried to get the words out, "there was someone else." She didn't think there was any need to spell it out for the boy. D'Artagnan was smart. He probably figured that her partner had been either caught by now or killed.

"Look why don't you give up," d'Artagnan said. "Perhaps the king would go easier on you." But he doubted it, right after the words left him. If she was the one behind the archbishop's death, and d'Artagnan had a feeling the young woman had played a significant role, then there would be no other option for Louis but for him to execute her.

"I may as well put the hangman's noose around my own neck, d'Artagnan."

Which pretty much confirmed his thoughts on her part in the assassination. His feet kept following toward the light and her escape, but d'Artagnan stopped walking upon hearing an odd sound. Realizing what it was, he twisted his body around just in time to reach out and catch a rapier that came sailing through the air toward him.

Taken off guard, Sophia found herself at the end of a sword. Arching a delicate brow, she smirked. "So it was a _rat_ was it?" She had to laugh at the situation Sophia now found herself in. "Shall we fight to the death then?" Tilting her head to the side she studied the youth. "I really don't want to hurt you, d'Artagnan, but I will if I must to leave this place alive."

"And I, _Princess_..." mockingly drawling out her fake title, he dipped his head, "have never taken up a blade against a woman before." His eyes danced with excitement and dread, all at the same time. "But, alas, there is always a first time for everything," he grinned. "At least tis what papa Porthos says."

"How many of them do you have?" Considering her circumstances, Sophia's chaotic thoughts had her wondering why in the world she even cared.

Holding up three fingers of his left hand, d'Artagnan chuckled at her expression of amazement.

"Three?" Stepping back from the boy's blade, Sophia began preparing to fight the young Gascon.

"Oui," he nodded. "You already know about papa Aramis and I just mentioned papa Porthos. There is also papa Athos."

"All three of my escorts to Paris," she muttered under her breath. Knowing their collective reputations, from the palace gossip Sophia had garnered, they were known as the inseparables. Each and every one of them deadly with a sword in their hands. Facing d'Artagnan, she had to wonder how much of that skill they passed onto their son. Bowing her head, Sophia brought it back up with a huge smile on her face. "Then as you say in France... _En garde_!"

"But you do not have a sword." Pointing out the obvious, d'Artagnan couldn't bring himself to attack when she only held a poignard in her hand.

"Ah, but I'm very talented with it," she grinned. "No need to worry on my account."

At her words d'Artagnan automatically found himself taking up a familiar position, as he had all those times when practicing swordplay with papa Athos. Fighting someone of the female persuasion did not sit well with him. Silently d'Artagnan vowed to do his best not to hurt her. So dancing around constantly he tried to keep her off balance. For a time it worked. Then feeling the bite of her poignard nick his left arm, d'Artagnan knew she meant business... so why didn't he?

Bien, d'Artagnan knew the reason well. He was brought up to respect women not to point a blade at their throats. Then again, this one wasn't a proper lady was she? Dancing back again, he dodged a close jab of her poignard. One that, if it had connected, would have scarred his face like papa Porthos. Getting his head back into the game d'Artagnan swung out with his sword, trying to knock the poignard from her grip.

Then inspiration struck as an absolutely ridiculous idea began forming in his mind. One that, d'Artagnan was sure, would have been applauded by at least two of his papas. Rapidly swirling around, ending up behind her, he made several swift cutting motions with his blade. He hadn't spilled her blood. That hadn't been his intention. D'Artagnan waited to see if his idea had worked.

Chuckling, Sophia shook her head. "Not even a scratch. Is that the best you've got?" Challenging the youngster made her excitement grow, even though Sophia knew this was delaying her escape.

Covering a gloved hand over his mouth d'Artagnan held back his amusement, for slowly but surely his opponent began losing bits and pieces of her gown. First, the sleeves began sagging down around her slender arms. With the material bunching up around the wrist of her right hand, it hampered the handling of her poignard.

Next came the bottom portion of her dress. As it began to fall apart, d'Artagnan could see the young woman's chemise beginning to show. Covering his eyes wasn't an option available to him, as was befitting a gentleman, for she would cut him down without hesitation. However his tactic worked to his advantage, as d'Artagnan observed her desperately try to hold the dress together with one hand while continuing to attack him with her poignard in the other.

At any other time this situation would have been laughable. He was sure papa Aramis and Porthos would have gotten a really big charge out of it. Papa Athos though would be frowning with displeasure. Twas not the done thing to do with a female. Just this time, d'Artagnan hoped papa Athos would forgive him.

" _Merda!_ " Trying not to lose her dress completely, Sophia glared at the youngster. " _Bastardo!_ " Following up with more colorful language, she kept trying to fight d'Artagnan without tripping over her gown.

Listening to her curses, d'Artagnan was curious as to what the words had meant. He at least understood the first two without the need of an interpreter. To say she was upset with him would have been an understatement. Watching his adversary try to keep her dignity intact, while still concentrating on their fight, d'Artagnan concerned himself with not getting cut by her sharp poignard.

Still there was something else on his mind that d'Artagnan couldn't help but worry upon. Whom was the person who threw the rapier to him. Said person hadn't shown himself and it could only mean one thing... it was young Louis. He prayed the child had the presence of mind to stay hidden. The last thing d'Artagnan needed was to try and protect not only himself but the petit as well. Even though the child would tell him that Louis could protect himself if needed to do so.

When she lost the battle with her skirts, d'Artagnan took his chance. Jumping forward he gave her a hard shove, making the young woman lose her balance. Flailing arms and flying skirts were all he was given to see, when she hit the ground hard. When her poignard flew out of her hand, d'Artagnan snatched it from the air to sheath it in his belt.

Now that she was down, he ran over to turn the young woman on her stomach. With one hand he held her arms behind her back, tearing off a strip from the gown to wrap around her wrists with the other, d'Artagnan secured his prisoner. Straightening up he made a full circle scanning the area for his best friend.

When the familiar figure of Louis popped out of nowhere, d'Artagnan got on his knees and hugged the life out of him. "What part of _going back for help_ did you not understand, Louis?" Not waiting for a response, he kept hugging the child until Louis squeaked in protest. "You and I are in for a whole lot of trouble when we get out of this."

Pulling back from d'Artagnan's arms, Louis wasn't sure what his friend meant. "Why would we be? You caught her."

"I may have caught an assassin but neither of us should have been anywhere around the danger to begin with." Running a hand through his hair, d'Artagnan sighed. "Especially you." He wasn't looking forward having to explain all of this, not only to Louis and Anne, but the cardinal and his papas. "Now that I think upon it," he gazed down at the child, "where did you get that sword in the first place?"

"Oh that part was easy," Louis giggled. "While you were inside with the..." he wasn't sure what she was, "er, _princess_ , I hid away. When I went to follow I passed one of the statues in the hall," he giggled again. "Low and behold it was of a Musketeer holding a _real_ sword."

Thinking how all of this could have turned tragically wrong, d'Artagnan whistled through his teeth at their luck. While speaking with Louis, he had tuned out the fake princess' curses again. Gazing down at the petit, he had no choice but to use his help again. "You and I are going to have to get her back upstairs and into the proper hands."

Looking at the assassin, still on her stomach and struggling with her bonds, Louis grinned up at d'Artagnan. "We can do it." Holding out his hand, palm down, he waited for his friend to do the same. "Together we can do anything.... _All for one and one for all!"_

Repeating the words his best friend had just uttered d'Artagnan, with Louis' help, got the young woman back on her feet. They then began the long trek back upstairs where this had all started.

++++

_King Louis' chambers_

Cardinal Richelieu, along with Captain Treville, stood beside the inseparables as they all discussed the Musketeer's rescue of Chancellor Dupre.

Head bent, rubbing a finger across his forehead, brows creased in concern King Louis glanced back up at the men. "Porthos, you said you killed one of the assassins?"

"Ya could say 'e did 'imself in, Your Majesty." At his words Porthos saw the young monarch shake his head, not understanding what Porthos had meant. "I 'ad 'im at sword's point when the assassin took my blade and rammed it inta 'is own chest."

"Ah!" Understanding dawned then for King Louis. "Death before dishonor," he murmured quietly. "I know the concept well."

"The most important thing is that the chancellor is alive, if not badly shaken up," Richelieu dryly announced to all.

"Has anyone checked on my cousin since we have assassins running loose in the palace?" Standing up from his desk, King Louis began to pace up and down. Something he was want to do when concerned over an issue or other. "For that matter is my queen protected?"

"Queen Anne is being guarded by at least a total of ten soldiers," Treville replied. "Musketeers and Red Guards together."

"But what of Louise?" King Louis snapped. "This cannot be a coincidence. First the archbishop was killed and now an attempt on Dupre's life."

None of them had heard the creak of the door open. So when a young voice spoke out, the men were all stunned into silence.

"Guess I have the answer to that one, Louis."

++++

_Note:_

_Bastardo_ \- Italian for bastard  
_Merda_ \- Italian for shit


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, around noon - King Louis’ chambers_

At d’Artagnan’s words, all eyes in the room focused on him. Beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable from the weight of their stares, which went from frowns at being disturbed to utter horror on Louis’ face as he noted his cousin's disheveled appearance, d'Artagnan pushed the woman further into the room.

Moving toward his cousin King Louis brushed past the cardinal and his old fox to get to her side, making sure she was all right. “D’Artagnan, what is the meaning of all this?” Turning a sharp eye upon the boy, he motioned toward Louise's bound hands. “And why the deuce is she trussed up in this manner?” Reaching for her bonds King Louis was stunned when the young Gascon gently pushed him away from her.

The inseparables became fearful for their son, not understanding what was going on and why d’Artagnan wasn’t letting the king near the woman. When the Dauphin stepped out from behind d’Artagnan, his presence startled them all.

“Papa, she’s a bad person.” Crossing his arms Louis scowled at the woman, the latter kept blowing hair out of her face and at one point even rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know what happened when d’Art followed her into one of the rooms in the palace,” his eyes begged papa to listen to him, “but when they came out she had a poignard against his back and lead him down below into the tunnels.”

Clutching his son to him Louis gazed down at the top of the child’s head, which was all he could see of the boy, so tightly held as he was against Louis' chest. “You were down there? Mon Dieu! Of all places to be!” He was not pleased upon hearing this but the petit's words had registered with him. “D’Artagnan, please explain what he’s talking about.” Pausing to consider the state of Louise's gown, now that he had a better view of it, Louis added, “Perhaps you could also tell me why her dress is practically falling apart.”

Shuffling his feet, d’Artagnan grimaced. Louis had not called him by his surname in a long time. To hear his friend do so now did not bode well. This alone told d’Artagnan how upset Louis was becoming. Swiping a hand across his brow, he tried to think best on what to speak upon first. Papa Athos always told him that to start at the beginning always worked. So that is what he did.

“She is not Princess Louise.” Blurting that out the way he had, d’Artagnan noted Louis instantly taking several steps backward, wariness entering the older man’s eyes. “I don’t know where the true one is but,” he jabbed a finger in the air toward the assassin, “tis not her.” Holding up a hand, d’Artagnan stopped Louis from interrupting as the man was about to do.

“Earlier I harbored a few suspicions about her of my own. Firstly because she appeared older in years than I was told by Cardinal Richelieu.” Shrugging casually d’Artagnan briefly glimpsed the cardinal covering his eyes and shaking his head. “Secondly, she hadn’t even recognized young Louis when they first met." Definitely the look of uncertainty clearly showed on all the older men's faces now, making d'Artagnan feel slightly better. "Anne had informed me that she had sent a miniature portrait of Louis to the princess not so long ago. Therefore it struck me as odd that this woman could have forgotten so easily."

Eyes hardening to polished stone, King Louis decided he’d have a few choice words to say to Richelieu later upon this matter. With growing impatience, he continued to listen to his young friend speak.

“Since even my papas told me twas not enough to condemn someone on I pushed it aside and went to school as normal this morn.” Eyes seeking out his famille, d’Artagnan noted sheepish expressions on all three of them.

Upon hearing this, King Louis turned to glare at the inseparables. “All of you knew d’Artagnan was worried and yet none thought to speak to your captain?” All three of his top soldiers opened their mouths to speak but nothing came out. “Never mind!” he snapped. “Later all of us are going to have a lengthy chat.” Attention back on the youngster, King Louis nodded for d’Artagnan to continue.

“Our lessons ended up being cancelled…” d’Artagnan noted surprise register on Louis’ face at this, "er, do to the fact that Monsieur Maigny was ill.”

“So d’Art and I had longer to play,” chirped Louis, wondering why papa rolled his eyes in that way when he said that.

Observing Cardinal Richelieu pinching the bridge of his nose, slowly shaking his head again, d’Artagnan knew the rest of what he was about to say wouldn’t go down well with any of them. Not well at all. Exchanging worried glances with young Louis, he felt the petit slip a hand into his own.

Louis knew that d’Artagnan didn’t want to put the initial blame, about using the tunnels, on his shoulders. Still he wanted to own up to his part in it all. “I showed d’Art the hidden passage in my room.”

Jaw dropping, King Louis slapped a hand to his forehead. “I need to sit down.”

“I too feel a great need to do so as well, Sire.” As soon as His Majesty collapsed into a chair, Captain Treville had found an empty one for Richelieu to sit upon.

Muttering out of the side of his mouth to his men Treville said, “If there were more chairs available I’d join them.”

Up to this juncture, the inseparables had been rendered quite speechless. They were also filled with guilt that it took their youngest to establish that this woman wasn’t who she claimed to be. Thus this imposter had effectively pulled the wool over everyone's eyes.

“For quite a time Louis and I went into the tunnels and had fun discovering various rooms we could go in and out of unseen. It was then that we found ourselves in an empty corridor where I spotted her,” d’Artagnan pointed a finger toward the fake princess, “going into one of the rooms.”

“Where in the world were those guards we had stationed all over the palace?’ Richelieu spoke up, exchanging an incredulous look with Treville. “Better yet, what was she even doing roaming about in the first place?”

“Those were my exact thoughts as well, Cardinal.” Catching her smirking, d'Artagnan wondered what was behind that particular look.

"Oh, Your Majesty," Sophia blinked innocently at King Louis, "you really should do something about those secret passageways." Grinning she tacked on, "How else do you think I got away from those Red Guards and Musketeers guarding my room?" She just had to rub it in.

Closing his eyes, King Louis swore softly. Upon opening them back up, his gaze locked with the cardinal's. Richelieu looked like he ate something that hadn't agreed with him. King Louis didn't know whether to laugh at the situation or cry.

At least they all had the answer as to how she managed to lose her guard detail. So before d'Artagnan lost all nerve he carried on. "Not knowing what she was up to we quietly followed behind her. Tis when I noted that she held a crossbow in her hands." The room was utterly silent at his words. Glancing toward Cardinal Richelieu, d'Artagnan noted the man's features turn a sickly white. Louis' were just as pale. He was too afraid to see how his words affected his papas to look their way. "Not yet understanding what was going on my first thought was to get young Louis out of the room. She had no idea that we had even entered it, which worked in our favor, and I was able to get Louis back out into the hallway." Feeling the petit's hand squeezing his own gently, d'Artagnan smiled down at him. "However I did tell him to leave and get help." 

“And did you?” Staring at his petit garcon, Louis’ lips pressed together for he feared he wouldn’t like the answer his son would give. “I asked you a question, mon fils.”

“Non, papa.” Shaking his head Louis’ lips trembled, realizing he had been in the wrong in this as well. “I waited and hid outside. I couldn’t leave d’Art alone even though I didn’t know what was going on.”

Lifting a limp hand in the air, waving it weakly, Louis murmured, "Of course you couldn't. What was I thinking?"

Concentrating on the floor, d'Artagnan missed the uneasy looks being cast his way. But what he was going to say next would unsettle his famille, even though there was no way of getting out of it. Lifting his head back up, d'Artagnan found the words hard to speak. "I went back inside to stop whatever she was about to do." His papas actually looked worse than the cardinal and Louis put together, even papa Porthos, and that was saying a lot. Bien, in for a penny and all that.

"As she leaned out the window to line up her target, it hit me whom her victim was going to be. It was a logical assumption on my part since earlier this morn my papas told me that Chancellor Dupre was to arrive at the palace." Deliberately d'Artagnan avoided making eye contact with his famille for this was the part they would dislike the most. Running his words together, he admitted what he had done. " _Itackledhermakinghermisstheshot._ "

Their son had spoken so fast that it took nearly a minute for the inseparables to realize what d'Artagnan just said. When it fully registered, once more they were left reeling.

"That explains what happened when that arrow narrowly missed the chancellor," Aramis whispered to his brothers. Porthos nodded his agreement, while Athos merely grunted silently holding his own council.

"After our tussel she held a poignard against my neck and I couldn't fight back for I wasn't carrying any weapons." Noting papa Athos cringe upon hearing that the assassin threatened to hurt him in that manner, d'Artagnan wished he had phrased it better. "Twas then that she took me down into the tunnels underneath the palace."

"Making her escape through them to the city." Richelieu understood the imposter's plan now.

"I wasn't going to hurt the boy." They didn't believe her, any fool could see that. So why did Sophia bother wasting her breath? "I don't suppose it matters now but I was going to release d'Artagnan once we reached the city streets. He knew that much."

"She doesn't kill children you see." Noting the disbelief on everyone's faces, d'Artagnan couldn't really blame them as he too wasn't sure she'd keep her word.

"D'Art," tugging his hand free from his friend, Louis' chin jutted up, "I should tell this part next." At d'Artagnan's silence, he gathered his courage. "When they came out of the room that's when I saw the weapon she held. I guessed then that she wasn't a very nice person." Listening to papa moaning, Louis hesitated but pressed on. "I followed them hoping I could help d'Art get away. When I heard her tell him they were getting close to the exit I became afraid for him. That's when I threw the sword I found toward d'Art hoping that he would catch it."

"Where, mon fils, did you ever find that weapon?" A shudder ran up and down Louis' spine at the mere thought of his seven year old petit running around the palace armed.

A cheeky grin split Louis' face. "From a statue of a Musketeer."

Not meaning to, a bark of laughter erupted from Treville which abruptly turned into a cough for fear of angering the king.

"I do not believe it," muttered Athos, who by now wondered if he were still in bed having a nightmare. Ignoring the urgent need to tear his hair out by the roots Athos refrained from doing so. Not wanting to appear the mad man.

"It was a good toss and I caught the sword easily," d'Artagnan commented. "Even though I've been taught how to handle a blade I never had to actually use it to attack anyone before. Less alone a woman." Blushing until he turned red in the face, d'Artagnan began to stammer. "I couldn't... hurt her... even if... she was... an... assassin."

"Hence," twirling a finger in the air with flourish, Aramis smothered his own amusement, "her new mode of dress." At his son's nod, Aramis winked at the lad. "Somehow I don't believe it will become a fashion trend in Paris," he mused. "Then again what do I know."

" _Aramis!_ " Twin, irritated, voices hissed at the marksman, both belonged to Athos and Captain Treville.

"Apologies, I couldn't help myself." Dark eyes still twinkling, Aramis avoided looking His Majesty's way.

"While we fought she ended up tripping over her dress and that's when I shoved her, making her fall. Then I bound her wrists together." His throat was unusually dry from all the talking he had done but now wasn't the time to ask for something to quench his thirst.

Standing back up, King Louis slowly approached the prisoner. "What is your name, Mademoiselle? And where is my cousin?"

Only giving His Majesty part of what he asked, Sophia slyly smiled. "I'm afraid the real Princess Louise will be missing her own wedding but on the plus side I've saved her from a horrible marriage." Chuckling, Sophia knew she was the only one in the room amused.

"Cardinal!" Glancing over his shoulder at Richelieu, King Louis feared what the imposter's words meant. "You will write to my family after we're done here and find out what happened to Louise."

"Of course, Sire." By now Richelieu too was back on his feet standing beside Treville. Dread filled him at the woman's words, for he feared it meant only one thing.

While everyone's attention was now on the king's upset over what had become of his cousin, Sophia managed to loosen her bonds. Having done so she removed the pearl studded hair piece, which kept her long curls in place, and threw it forcefully toward the young monarch. It's pointed tips were as deadly as any poignard. Sophia had it made especially for her. This wasn't something she had wanted to do, as Sophia and Francesco hadn't been paid to assassinate King Louis, but if this promised sweet escape then so be it.

Not knowing what the object hurtling toward His Majesty was, Athos automatically jumped in front of the king to take the blow. When the sharp ends embedded themselves in his upper shoulder, he howled with the pain of it. " _Merde!_ "

Chaos abounded within the room which is what Sophia had hoped for. With everyone distracted, she slipped away unnoticed by the guards that had gathered around the king. Which, of course, made her escape all the more easier.

" _PAPA!_ " Frightened at what had happened, and for the life of papa Athos, d'Artagnan hovered over the older man. He was sprawled upon the floor being poked and prodded by papa Aramis. In the meantime papa Porthos angrily spouted out a string of colorful curses, not worrying in the least about petit ears still being in the room. If d'Artagnan had ever uttered those words, papa Athos would have washed his mouth out with soap and water.

Waving a hand nonchalantly in the air, King Louis dryly said, "I'm fine by the way in case anyone's interested." Since no one except his guards were paying him any attention, King Louis concerned himself with the Musketeer who had just saved his life. "How's my savior doing?"

Holding back a groan, Athos blinked owlishly up at His Majesty. "Some days, Sire," he tried to chuckle but that only hurt him worse, "the supply of available... swear words... is insufficient to... meet the... demands." Hearing the king's snuff of laughter, Athos managed a slight smile despite the pain of Aramis removing the deadly projectile. " _Nom de Dieu, Aramis!_ "

"I'm trying to get this out the best I can without ripping your shoulder to shreds, mon ami," Aramis retorted through gritted teeth. "Trust me when I say this, mon frere, but this will hurt me more than it will you."

Snorting, Athos ground out, "I sincerely doubt... that."

White faced, d'Artagnan slumped upon the floor to sit beside his injured papa.

"Pup," panting from the pain Athos reached out to d'Artagnan with one hand, "you are in... a world of... trouble."

Hanging his head down, d'Artagnan's puppy dog eyes couldn't meet the man's angry gaze. "I know we shouldn't have used the secret passage."

"Tis not so much... that which... has... angered me." When the lad dared to look back at him, Athos' blurry vision could tell how sick d'Artagnan felt about the injury he sustained. "You recklessly risked... your life... against an assassin entirely... on your... own."

"There'll be consequences, whelp." He didn't know whether to clap the kid's shoulder in congratulations for a job well done, showing d'Artagnan how proud Porthos was, or to turn the boy over his knees and deliver a few hard slaps to his son's rear.

"Papa Aramis?" Afraid to say more than that, because papa was concentrating on the task at hand, d'Artagnan waited to see if he had words for him as well.

Trying to take care of his friend's wound, Aramis almost didn't bother responding. Changing his mind he said, "If you're asking for absolution, d'Art, then I'm afraid I'm in full agreement with my brothers on this one." Lips twitching slightly, Aramis added, "Even if I did rather like the creative way you found to engage her."

"Do... not encourage... him, Aramis." Only the marksman could find something amusing about all of this. The man would never change Athos thought, biting his lips against a wave of pain flowing through his body.

As far as injuries go, Athos has suffered worse in his long career. So Aramis didn't consider this wound of a serious nature. When a hand nearly enveloped with lace held out a bottle of brandy in front of his face, he nodded his thanks to King Louis for thinking of it. Even knowing it was to help clean Athos' injury, Aramis could have used a swig of the amber liquid himself.

Having heard the inseparables and how upset they were with his best friend, Louis timidly reached out for papa's hand. "How much trouble am I in?"

"I'm upset about you both using those tunnels." It was hard for Louis to be mad at the petit, because he remembered his own childhood. He was forever getting into trouble, because of his curious nature. There was even a time when he had done the very thing his son and d'Artagnan had but young Louis didn't need to know that. "What I find more disappointing is that you disobeyed d'Artagnan when he told you to leave immediately and go get help." Gazing down into the boy's tearful eyes, Louis tried to remain firm. "I have to think upon your punishment. God alone only knows what I'm going to tell Anne."

"'Ave any of the guards caught 'er yet?" More concerned with Athos than the assassin Porthos figured someone should ask regardless.

That's when it hit Treville and Richelieu, at the same time, that all the guards that had been posted outside His Majesty's room were still inside with them.

"Mon Dieu!" Looking fit to be tied, Richelieu bellowed at his Red Guards while Treville did the same to the other Musketeers that had been stationed outside. "Tis probably too late but get after that woman!"

++++

Racing down the long corridors of the palace, holding her tattered dress up with one hand, Sophia was running for her very life. She was lucky that only certain areas of the Louvre were protected by the guards. Having made it her business to study the layout of the palace, she knew exactly where they would be located. Armed with that knowledge, Sophia carefully avoided them.

Tripping over the hem of her dress again, Sophia stopped to catch her breath. That's when she finally noticed a way out. Sophia recognized exactly where she was now. The doors in front of her would lead the way outside to the Royal Gardens. From there Sophia would be free of this place, even though she would be leaving poor Francesco behind.

Freedom for her remained elusive though, when a sharp cut of a poignard against her jugular made itself felt. As Sophia's vision slowly dimmed, she heard the sound of a feminine voice from somewhere near her. With the scent of jasmine surrounding her, Sophia's last thought was that the air smelled so sweet.

Gazing upon the deceased assassin's body, a seductive voice tutted softly. "And you held such promise, ma chère. Pity that."

++++

_Notes:_

_Mon fils_ – my son  
_Non de Dieu_ \- God damn it

 _Quote: "Some days, the supply of available swear words is insufficient to meet the demands."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for the mention of a child being spanked but it's not depicted.  
> This chapter got away from me and ended up being way longer than I intended.
> 
> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, not quite one pm in the afternoon_

Struggling to maintain his dignity, Athos slowly gained his feet, albeit unsteadily, propped up between Aramis and Porthos.

Meanwhile, Captain Treville and Cardinal Richelieu were having words with one another in the corner of the room. Their voices steadily rose until King Louis had had enough, shouting for them to be quiet.

“Gentlemen,” King Louis huffed, “I said that all of us would be talking in depth over what has occurred later.” Glancing at Athos’ pale features, he grimaced. “This poor man should be in the infirmary not having to listen to you two caterwauling.”

“I assure you, Sire,” Athos croaked, his voice giving out on him, “I am perfectly able to recuperate at home.”

“As you wish.” Folding his arms King Louis shook his head. “I know how stubborn my Musketeers can be,” he chuckled. “In particular you three men.” When two Red Guards and a Musketeer rushed into the room, he scowled at the interruption. “My chambers have a door to be knocked upon. Next time use it!”

Stammering apologies all three soldiers looked at one another, trying to figure out whom should be the one to break the news to His Majesty first. Thus it fell to Fernand, by silent agreement, to step forward.

Noting the hesitation his Musketeer was exhibiting, King Louis felt the soldier’s news would not be a welcome one. “Speak up, man, and stop dithering!” His patience with this entire event was wearing on his nerves, as well as King Louis’ worry over his cousin Louise.

“Sire, we’ve discovered the assassin just outside the Royal Gardens.”

“Tis excellent to hear that.” Eyes roaming the room, King Louis could feel the tension beginning to ease. “Bring her before me immediately.” At his words, King Louis noted hesitation afflict the same soldier again. Weary of all this, he snapped his fingers at the Musketeer. “Now preferably rather than later!”

“Your Majesty.” This time Sylvestre spoke up. Being one of the Red Guards his eyes briefly sought out the cardinal then once more settled upon the young monarch. “We found the woman already dead.”

“Oh this is unacceptable! I wanted to question her personally again!” Frowning his displeasure King Louis asked, “Who killed her and how?"

“Her throat had been slashed, Sire.” Fernand offered. “There was no one in the area when we got there. We searched the grounds most thoroughly after we discovered the woman’s body.”

“If it had been one of us,” Favager glanced at Cardinal Richelieu for a second, “I’m sure they would have come forward.”

“However there was a delicate scent surrounding the body that I found odd.” Noting the king rolling his eyes, Sylvestre exchanged concerned glances with his two companions.

“Tis called a _Royal Garden_ for a reason,” King Louis snapped. Wondering what type of men Richelieu was employing nowadays. “Of course you would smell flowers in the air.” Noting the soldier’s embarrassment, he waved them all out of the room. Turning to Treville, King Louis pulled him away from the cardinal’s side. “Retrieve her body and have her taken to the morgue where Poupart could begin his examination.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” Walking over to where the inseparables stood, Treville’s eyes took in the pale, sweaty features of his lieutenant. Looking over at Aramis he said, “Make sure to get Athos settled and then I want you and Porthos to report back to my office.”

“Oui, Captain.” Watching the officer leave, Aramis motioned for d’Artagnan to come to him. “We’re taking Athos home where you’ll be left in charge to care for him until we return.”

“Then we’ll figure out your punishment, runt.” Squeezing the back of the whelp’s neck, Porthos tried to convey how proud he was of his son without verbally voicing it.

As all four of them departed, a hand reached out to snag d’Artagnan’s arm. Turning around he encountered Louis staring at him with a proud expression on his face.

“Despite everything that has happened,” sighing Louis gazed down upon the bent head of his petit garcon, “I want to thank you for attempting to keep my child out of harm’s way.” Patting the young Gascon’s shoulder gently, Louis smiled when d’Artagnan shyly ducked his head. “You acquitted yourself well against that woman.”

Surprised at Louis’ praise, d’Artagnan kept his eyes lowered. When finding his chin tipped up, he couldn’t guess what else was left to be said.

“Even though I hold my son responsible for starting all of this with that hidden room,” Louis paused for a second or two noting stricken expressions on both children, “I’m sorry I cannot dissuade the inseparables from punishing you, d’Art. Although I understand their upset as it was a daring thing for you to do."

Eyes brightening at the use of his nickname again, d’Artagnan grinned. “Tis all right,” he lightly shrugged one shoulder. “I more or less expected it.”

This time Louis gave a firmer pat to d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “All right then.” Suddenly, Louis found himself choking up. He could have so easily lost his petit and this bright youngster from Gascony. Spreading out his arms he gathered both boys in close, briefly hugging them. Releasing d’Artagnan first, Louis motioned for the lad that it was all right to leave with the inseparables now. Still keeping his son by his side, for fear the child would run after his friend, Louis watched as d’Artagnan closed the door.

“Am I staying here with you, papa?” Forlornly gazing after his best friend, Louis worried his bottom lip.

“I am going to seek out Anne to tell her the mischief you’ve created.” Dropping a kiss on top of his petit’s head, Louis caught Richelieu’s amused gaze. “If you think I was angry wait until your maman hears of your escapade.”

++++

_Elsewhere in the palace_

Observing the king’s finest running around like mad chickens with their collective heads cut off, along with Richelieu’s soldiers tripping over their own feet, Milady smirked. Dressed up to the nines, she mixed in well with the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. _Waiting for what_ was the question that always amused her when thinking upon it. Dressed as she was, no one would become suspicious of her roaming the grounds. The fools thought she was just another simpering courtier lying in wait to drool over King Louis.

It was just such a travesty that a simple assignment turned into a giant fiasco. Lips pursed as she remembered killing the young assassin, Milady felt it had been such a waste to end Sophia’s life. It hadn’t been her desire to do so but that of Milady’s employers. Since the job had been badly botched they hadn’t wanted any loose ends. Sophia had been a thread dangling in the wind and Milady had been the one to cut it. At least Francesco had been smart enough to take his own life, albeit, at the end of the mighty Porthos’ sword.

If it hadn’t been for the need of a good income, she would have called it quits and cut all ties with her new employers. Lately the taste for killing and spying had begun to pall. But upon her return to Paris, Milady discovered that Olivier had become a Musketeer in service to His Majesty. She was curious to see whether the passing of years had changed the man Milady had known for what seemed a lifetime ago.

Imagine to her shock, finding out that aside from becoming a soldier Olivier was a pére to a twelve year old boy. Had been since the youngster was only a mere bébé, if rumor held up. She couldn’t picture a domesticated Athos no matter how hard she tried.

Their parting had been a bitter and tragic thing. A secret Anne had carefully kept to herself became known during a riding mishap. The mark of the fleur-de-lis on her shoulder branded Anne a criminal and murderess. Both of which she couldn’t deny.

Being the lord of all he surveyed, Olivier had the right to mete out justice in any form he saw fit. Furious for the shame he felt had been brought upon his famille’s illustrious name, Olivier had ordered her execution. By some quirk of fate, when the cart underneath her feet had been rolled away, the rope around Anne’s neck unraveled tearing apart.

You could only pass execution once, unless one was the king of France. So standing over Anne’s prone body, as it laid stunned upon the cold blades of grass, Olivier had told her they would be divorced as fast as humanly possible. Also he ruthlessly tacked on that she was never to cross his path again or he would personally end her existence.

And so Anne left la Fere, Olivier and a chance at love behind her. Life had dealt her blows in the past but she had risen above them. Taking up her old trade again she made a decent living, though the things Anne had to do were far from _decent_ to survive. There had even been a brief stint as wife to Lord de Winter. Too bad her husband met with an untimely accident and died, leaving Anne quite wealthy. Alas that wealth was nearly gone now so she came back to Paris to look for work.

After making her way to the city, she found herself working for her current employers. This then lead to her place in the palace where Anne discovered her former husband was now a Musketeer. She wasn't sure if she would make her presence known to her ex-husband or not. From what Anne had gathered Olivier, now known as Athos, shared parental duties with two other Musketeers. Her curiosity was more than piqued over it all.

Anne had later also found out that Sophia had been one upped by a twelve year old boy. That _boy_ also turned out to be Athos' adopted son. She decided that making her business to get to know the youngster would be at the top of her list, despite the chance Anne may run into her ex sooner than she'd like.

++++

_The Inseparable's residence_

Having seen to papa Athos, d'Artagnan went to take care of Tempest and Roger. Losing track of time, he was surprised when papa Porthos and Aramis arrived back home. Taking their mounts d'Artagnan led Belle and Roulette into the barn. Having removed their tack he made sure they had enough to eat then headed back inside the house.

Having entered the main room, d'Artagnan didn't see either of them. Checking the kitchen they weren't there either. Which meant that they must be with papa Athos. It only meant one thing. His punishment was being decided so d'Artagnan had better brace himself.

Taking a book off the shelf d'Artagnan settled on the sofa to read, keeping himself occupied. Half an hour into the story, he heard the sound of a door open and close. When papa Porthos sat down to his left and papa Aramis to his right, d'Artagnan marked his place and set the book aside.

"I've given Athos a pain draught that should help him sleep for a time," Aramis smiled. "Or at least until I fix dinner." Looking over his son's head, he tried to catch Porthos' eyes. Not really wanting to be the one to speak up first, Aramis sighed. Scratching his beard, tilting his head at an angle, he studied the lad. "You know what we want to discuss with you?" A sharp nod from d'Artagnan showed that the youngster was ready to listen to them.

"After speaking with Captain Treville and Athos we've decided that aside from your normal chores here you will also help out the stable boys take care of the Garrison mounts."

"'An anythin' else the captin' needs done." Pleased that the kid was accepting all this gracefully he tacked on, "For at least a month anyways. Could be longer if ya give us any grief, pup."

"Uh, then there's also the time you'll spend with Serge in the canteen." Chuckling when d'Artagnan rolled his eyes at that, Aramis got to his feet.

"Do I still keep up with my lessons while I'm punished?" Feeling that he had gotten off lightly, d'Artagnan didn't think what he had to do was so bad. Observing the looks his papas exchanged with one another at his question, d'Artagnan wondered why they both appeared pained.

"Your regular routine in that regard will remain the same." Pausing, Aramis knew this was the part that would hurt the boy the most. "However, you and the Dauphin won't see each other out of school for the entire month of your punishment."

Eyes growing sad at this disappointing news, d'Artagnan slumped further into the sofa. This was worse than anything he could think of.

"Captin' said that the king told somethin' similar ta the Dauphin and the boy 'ad a good cry over it." Actually Porthos thought the Dauphin was getting off lightly, as the petit didn't have chores to do like their son here did.

"The Dauphin won't be allowed to ride his poney or play with any of the courtier's children either," Aramis added. Whether that made d'Artagnan feel better that he wasn't the only one suffering, Aramis wouldn't know. "Also you won't be allowed to hang about with Gerard and Christophe either." D'Artagnan would just have to explain to his other friends why he couldn't be with them.

"Big deal," grumbled Porthos. "The Dauphin's gettin' off lightly when it was 'is fault for showin' the runt 'ere that secret passage."

"D'Artagnan may have bested that assassin but he's old enough that he should have known better than to have taken her on," Aramis huffed. "Mon Dieu! None of this would have happened in the first place if our son had used his head and dissuaded the Dauphin from using those tunnels."

"I 'ave ta wonder if what the captin' told us King Louis did actually 'appened."

Observing a silent exchange going on between the older men, d'Artagnan became anxious. "What? What did Louis do?"

"Apparently in a fit of anger, upon the queen fainting having heard the danger her son could have been in, His Majesty turned the petit over his knees and rendered a few well placed slaps on the child's derriere." Aramis could see this upset the lad all the more.

As far as d'Artagnan knew Louis never lifted a hand in anger toward the petit before. He wished he could have been there when that happened, to at least console his best friend. It would be a long, lonely month for both of them. Even though d'Artagnan had several other friends his own age he could spend time with, it was young Louis that d'Artagnan had formed a special bond with.

Aramis took d'Artagnan's silence as his cue to leave and go get dinner started. When a pounding on their front door gained his attention, Porthos beat him to it to see who it was.

A harried looking Constance came bursting into the room, as soon as the door opened. "Where is he?"

Amused, even though he knew he shouldn't have been, Aramis pointed to himself. "Once in a while someone amazing comes along..."

Figuring Aramis meant Constance, Porthos winked at the whelp. Perhaps romance was in the air once again.

Spreading his arms out wide, Aramis grinned. "And here I am!"

"Oy!" Hanging his head down, shaking it back and forth, Porthos felt his brother really did it now.

Elbowing Aramis hard in the stomach, listening to the rush of hot air escape the Musketeer, Constance's eyes looked around the room. Finding d'Artagnan safe and sound, she rushed over to the boy. Giving him a warm hug and kiss on the cheek she began to gently shake him. "What were you thinking?"

Bemused at her actions, d'Artagnan was utterly bereft of words.

Tapping the youngster's temple with a finger, Constance answered her own question. "You weren't thinking. That's the problem with having three soldiers raising you." Hands on hips, Constance's forehead creased with wrinkles. "Speaking of Musketeers... where's Athos?"

Taking her hand d'Artagnan quietly led her into papa Athos' room, as he didn't want to wake him up yet.

Watching Aramis rub his stomach, Porthos allowed himself a moment or two to gloat. "Took on a bit more than ya could chew eh, Mis?" Cackling, he headed for the kitchen.

"No one understands my brand of humor." Muttering to the empty room, Aramis took his time following his brother. Lord help them all if Porthos decided to cook. The man was not known for his culinary skills. Aramis and Athos found out the hard way, when they went on their first mission together. Burnt rabbit wasn't a delicacy to Aramis' or Athos' tastes. From that point onward neither of them let Porthos attempt to cook. Hearing the banging together of pots and pans, Aramis hurried up.

++++

Having satisfied herself that Aramis had taken good care of Athos' injury, Constance and d'Artagnan left the man's room. "I was with Queen Anne when she was informed of what happened. Poor woman was quite beside herself after learning what you and the Dauphin had gotten caught up in." Sadly she gazed at the silent boy. "An assassin in the palace disguised as the king's cousin and _you_ were the only one who thought something was off." Leading him over to the sofa they both sat down. "I fear for you, d'Artagnan. I know you believe you can handle a sword but you don't possess the necessary skill set to take on such people."

"But I did," d'Artagnan whispered, eyes downcast. The last time Constance had been this upset was years ago when he had gotten mixed up with Vadim.

"You got away with it by the skin of your teeth, young man." Calming herself, Constance took several deep breaths. "Taking that woman by surprise was what saved you."

"Twice." Softly spoken as it was, d'Artagnan knew she had heard him.

" _Twice?_ " she repeated, slightly confused.

"First I stopped her from killing the chancellor and later down in the tunnels when I fought her."

Placing a hand to her rapidly beating heart, Constance gaped at the lad. "I was told only the part of your preventing the death of Dupre." When she listened to him tell her the rest of the story, Constance closed her eyes. "No wonder the queen fainted."

"Anyway," squeezing her hand, he smiled shakily, "see... me... here... alive?"

Tugging her hand away, Constance sighed. "At least for today."

"You'll be happy to know that I start serving my punishment on the morrow." D'Artagnan then went into detail telling her what that entailed.

"You may have saved the day but I understand the why of it." Arching a brow, Constance cocked her head to the side. "Do you?"

"Uh huh," he hummed.

"That's all I get?" Swatting at him as d'Artagnan ducked away from her arm, Constance noted sadness fill the youngster. "Tis something else. Isn't there?"

"You know that the assassin was found dead just outside the entrance to the Royal Gardens?"

There was pain in the lad's eyes, as well as in his voice. She guessed what it meant. "You liked her." It had been a statement not a question.

Realizing Constance understood, d'Artagnan studied his clasped hands. "Louis and I were looking forward to teaching her croquet. I got the impression that she'd be a lot of fun." Sighing he said, "Boy, how wrong could I get?"

"Having a crush is normal," she chucked her friend under the chin. "Especially as you find yourself growing older." Laying her head on his shoulder, Constance placed a hand on top of his tightly clasped ones. "I'm sorry things turned out this way. But I'm not sorry that she's out of the picture for good."

"We're still left with a puzzle though." It would keep nagging at him until he figured it out.

"How so?"

"We know she or her partner killed the archbishop." It had been of great concern to everyone. D'Artagnan couldn't help but listen as his papas spoke with Louis, Captain Treville and Cardinal Richelieu, while still in the chambers. "She was attempting to murder Chancellor Dupre so something had to tie the two together."

"Are you saying no one's figured it out yet?" For a room full of intelligent men, Constance was amazed to say the least that none of them could put their finger upon it.

"Too much has happened for them right now. I believe when things have settled down they may do so." Pondering on that missing connection, it struck d'Artagnan then about other possibilities. Jumping up from the sofa he ran into the kitchen where he found papa Porthos arguing that papa Aramis added too much garlic to the steaks.

"Pardon for the interruption." He smirked at the roll of eyes aimed his way. "I need to tell you something."

“Can’t it wait til’ afta we eat, kid.”

Hearing papa Porthos’ stomach growl, d’Artagnan’s lips refrained from curling upward into a smile. “I don’t think so.”

“What is it and make it snappy or the steaks I’m preparing will end up tasting like Porthos’ cooking.” Aramis kept one eye on the skillet and the other on his son.

“All of you are forever drumming into me that there’s always a common factor for certain events.” Nearly breathless with excitement, for d’Artagnan felt that the idea he had held merit, he said, “I believe I’ve discovered what that common thread was between Archbishop Jacqueme and Chancellor Dupre.”

“Speak up, whelp, cause I’m gettin'’ that hungry feeling.”

As far as Aramis was concerned he realized that that his son was way smarter than the average youngster d'Artagnan's age. This should be very interesting.

“They both served together on Louis’ council.” Putting it out there, d’Artagnan noted papa Aramis’ eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline. Their dinner sizzling away, was forgotten for the moment.

“Merde!” Swearing, Porthos glanced woefully at the steaks on the stove. Coming to a decision he rushed past Constance who had been standing just inside the entrance to the kitchen.

“Where are you off to,” shouted d’Artagnan, surprised at papa's reaction.

“Gotta tell the captin’! Cause what ya said makes a whole lotta sense!” Grabbing his weapons belt, doublet and chapeau, Porthos went to get Roulette. “There’d better be some steak left for me when I get back!” bellowed Porthos before his departure.

So when the door slammed shut another one opened. Rubbing his eyes, Athos staggered into the center of the main room. “How is someone to rest with all that racket going on?”

Carefully guiding Athos onto the sofa, Constance and d’Artagnan sat on either side of the hurting man.

Wisely, Aramis stayed inside the kitchen. For now, cooking seemed the most harmless activity to be tending to.

“What the deuce happened now!” Going to touch his sore shoulder, d’Artagnan stayed Athos’ hand. Glowering at the pup he snapped. “Did you do something again, child?” staring at his son, the lad appeared fine. “As far as I know there are no assassins lurking around our home for you to engage.”

“Tis not that, Athos. Now calm down.” Patting him gently on the back, Constance noted the grimace crossing his face. He was still in pain and should have stayed in bed.

“You were not the one pierced by a hair comb, Mademoiselle!” His sharp tone with her caused the younger woman to live up to her titian hair.

“I’ll have you know I rushed over here immediately having heard what d’Art did and that you went and got yourself hurt!” Getting up from the sofa, Constance jabbed a finger under the man’s nose. “What do I get from you?” Throwing her hands up in the air, she stood up to pace the floor. Then suddenly Constance stopped upon remembering Athos’ words. “Did you say _hair comb_?" Beginning to giggle, she then had d’Artagnan joining in. Even Athos’ mouth turned slightly up in the corners. Shortly they all ended up having a laughing fit.

Then Athos went on to explain the weapon used on him. “Who would have thought a decorative comb could turn out so deadly?” A spark of something Athos couldn’t put a finger on came and went quickly in Constance’s eyes. “What?”

“I should get one made not only for myself but for the queen.” Blue eyes danced with excitement and she couldn't wait to tell Anne.

"Tis a fine idea," Athos agreed. "Now will one of you tell me what woke me up?" And his son did so to his surprise. "It does make good sense now that you've pointed it out." Gripping d'Artagnan's shoulder Athos said, "You do us proud."

"Even after all the trouble Louis and I found ourselves in?"

"Even that." Sniffing the air Athos stood up, teetering slightly. Pointing toward the kitchen, he sniffed again. "Smells like something is burning?"

As Constance drew close to the kitchen to investigate, a plume of smoke came at her. Coughing, waving the smoke away, she spied Aramis in the middle of it all. He was mildly swearing and looking out of sorts. "What happened?"

"Here I am blaming Porthos for not being capable of even boiling water," he began coughing, trying to clear the smoke out, "and I go and nearly burn our dinner." Staring down into the pan, Aramis wondered what went wrong. "I was trying to sear in the juices," he explained.

"Apparently your technique needs work." Shoving Aramis away from the stove, Constance snorted. "Move over and let a woman show you how tis done." Attempting to salvage the steaks, for the next half hour she took over the kitchen. By the time Porthos came back the large Musketeer would come home to a well-cooked meal, if she had anything to say about it.

++++

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

"We've been hashing over other issues like how none of us knew the assassin had taken the place of the real princess... what's happened to the king's cousin... how had the assassins managed to smuggle in those weapons." Slumping in his chair, Treville's face was a haggard looking one as it had been a very long day. "And other things too numerous to mention. I fear figuring out why Jacqueme was killed and the attempt on Dupre fell to the wayside."

Slapping his hand down hard on the desk, it made Porthos jump. Shoving back his chair, Treville stood up. "On top of all that some of my men discovered Duc De Barville's body stuffed inside a chest." Kicking his chair out of the way it ended tipping over to crash on the floor. "It was the smell that caught the attention of the Duc's staff." A harsh laugh escaped Treville. "None of them even realized the man had gone missing."

"Wasn't 'e a member of King Louis' council like the others?" Two important figures dead and one nearly so. The whelp had the right of it.

"Oui, De Barville was which makes d'Art's theory a good one. Give him my thanks. I'll starting looking further into this on the morrow."

"Ya 'aven't figured out who killed 'er yet?" Perched on the edge of the captain's desk, Porthos watched the officer frown.

"Non," Treville shook his head. "No clues... nothing. Another mystery for us to solve I'm afraid." Listening to Porthos' stomach loudly complaining, Treville chuckled. "Didn't you eat yet?"

"Mis was cookin' steaks when d'Art came in tellin' us 'is opinion on all of this."

"Get out of here and go home before nothing's left of your dinner." The expression on Porthos' face had Treville choking back laughter that he felt bubbling up. That look did not bode well and he was glad twas not aimed at him.

"I warned Mis about that so there'd better be." Waving goodbye, Porthos strode quickly out the door.

Staring at his desk overflowing with paperwork Treville realized his night wasn't over yet, not by a long shot. Going over to the rack he removed his chapeau from the peg. Looked like he'd be paying a late night visit to the Palais-Cardinal. Time enough to approach His Majesty with this latest development on the morrow. But Treville needed to speak with Richelieu and get the man's thoughts on what d'Art just dropped in their laps.

++++

_The Inseparable's residence again  
_

"I shall escort you back home after we dine, Constance."

"You don't have to, Aramis. I rode my neighbor's horse here by myself and should be more than capable of riding back again as well." 

"Tis dark out. I won't hear anymore of it." Catching d'Artagnan's eyes going back and forth between him and Constance, then smiling at them as if the lad knew what was going on, Aramis wagged a finger at his son. "Eat your food before it gets cold, d'Art."

"I hope Porthos gets back before the steaks cool." Enjoying her meal, Constance too noted the boy's smug smile. Knowing full well what was behind it, she kept silent.

When a door opened and slammed shut, they figured it was Porthos. More than likely he came back with a healthy appetite too.

"Somethin' sure smells good." Coming into the kitchen Porthos plopped down beside d'Artagnan. "Eh, Mis, ya did a fine job."

"Wasn't papa Aramis," d'Artagnan offered.

Chewing on a mouthful of steak, Porthos figured the kid could only mean Constance had prepared the meal. Swallowing, he took a sip of wine. "When I left 'e was cookin'."

"I had a slight mishap with the steaks and Constance charged in to save the day." Sipping his own glass of wine Aramis raised it up in the air, as if in toast to the young woman.

"That's why the kitchen seems a bit on the hazy side." Chuckling over what had nearly happened, Porthos continued to savor his steak. "Whelp, before I forget the captin' sends 'is thanks for figurin' out that connection idea of yours."

"While you were there did he have any new information," Aramis asked.

"Not like I want ta give any of us indigestion but yeah," Porthos grunted. "Duc De Barville's body was found stuffed in a chest." Glancing at his son, he pointed a fork at the boy. "'E was a council member too, runt."

He was sad upon learning of another man's death but it made him feel better that he wasn't far off the mark. Finishing his meal before any of them, d'Artagnan asked to be excused. "I'm going to see if papa Athos is done eating. If he is I'll bring his plate back."

"It was the best thing for Athos to go rest back in bed with his injury." Going to the sink, Constance was about to wash the dirty dishes. A hand upon hers prevented her from beginning to do so.

"Non, you're not our maid but a guest." Guiding her out to the main room Aramis picked up Constance's shawl and placed it around her shoulders. "Tis d'Art's turn to do them anyway so I shall escort you home."

Calling out to d'Artagnan she said, "No more tangling with assassins, young man!" When the boy's voice shouted back, Constance laughed at his response.

"Not very likely with all the chores I'll be doing!"

"I gather d'Art's going to be a busy bee around the house," Contance mused.

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed. "The house... the canteen... the Garrison." Putting his doublet back on, slapping his chapeau on his head, he then led Constance outside. "So if there's another assassin lurking about they'll have to wait until d'Art's available."

Their combined laughter echoed within the room, until the door closed behind them.

++++

_Note_

_Quote: "Once in a while someone amazing comes along... and here I am!"_ \- from Aunty Acid


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, early morning – Royal Palace_

Having finished his chores at home, d’Artagnan had arrived at the palace for his school lessons with Monsieur Maigny. He barely managed to say hello to young Louis when his teacher impatiently began tapping a long stick against a map on the wall. Evidently Monsieur had been informed that d’Artagnan and the petit were not to have much interaction between them.

He doubted their long faces would make Monsieur ease up on them either. And so d’Artagnan’s lessons were quite dull, without being able to tease Louis or try to beat him at an answer. To think he had an entire month of this to look forward to. It was going to be a very long thirty days.

++++

_After lunch – Garrison stables_

Lessons done for the day d’Artagnan had gone to the stables and spent the next few hours helping the stable boys, Pierre and Andre, groom the horses. At least he was able to have a nice conversation with the other two lads, both of whom were nearer d’Artagnan’s own age. When he had finished and said his farewells, d’Artagnan checked in with Serge. Upon entering the canteen the old cook was chasing Jean-Luc, who was one of the older Musketeers, out of his kitchen. Amused at the sight d’Artagnan asked Serge, “What was his crime? Stealing some baguettes?”

“Now, youngin’,” Serge growled, “don’t give me no lip!” Marching back into his kitchen, he began clanging pots and pans together. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I thought you knew.”

“There are lots of things I _know_ ,” swatting at a fly that dared to hover around his face, Serge gave d’Artagnan a funny look, “and lots of things I _don’t_.”

Which told d’Artagnan not much. “Part of my punishment for going against an assassin… ring any bells, Serge?”

Scratching his grizzled head, Serge thought on it and then he remembered Captain Treville’s earlier words to him. “Yeah. Now I do.” Staring at a sack full of potatoes he jerked his head at it. “Ya can start by peeling those for me. Be a big help getting them done.”

So another uneventful hour passed for d’Artagnan. Peeling potatoes wasn’t that hard to do, and would have rivaled this morn’s dull lessons, except for one thing. His time in the canteen brightened considerably, upon listening to old war stories offered up by Serge. The old man’s past glory days with the Musketeers sounded exciting to d’Artagnan who listened raptly to the tales.

By the time d’Artagnan was done with his task, Serge had just finished regaling him on how he single-handedly saved a squad of his brother-in-arms from a band of low life malandrins. All-in-all it had been quite entertaining to hear, and d’Artagnan was pleased that Serge had shared the stories with him. “Looks like I’m all done with the potatoes. What’s next?”

Rubbing his stubbled chin, Serge shrugged. “I could use some help wiping down the tables, lad.”

Which didn’t take d’Artagnan very much time at all. Shortly thereafter he found himself telling Serge he’d see him on the morrow, as it appeared all that was left to do was prepare some baked goods for the coming morn’s breakfast. One thing d’Artagnan hadn’t been allowed to try his hand at yet was cooking. So there was no need for him to linger.

As he left the canteen, d’Artagnan heard his name being hailed. Turning in a circle, he tried to see who had called out. Upon noting Captain Treville waving to gain his attention, d’Artagnan ran over to where the officer stood observing a few Musketeers sparring.

“Did you need me for something, sir?”

“I got tied up with meetings today with His Majesty and the cardinal.” Still watching Rene go against Renard, Treville winced. “Rene, your blade was up to high. Try again!” Distracted, he nearly forgot what he had been speaking on. “Now where was I? Oh oui. It just hit me that there are a few things I need ordered at the local saddlery to be delivered back here.” Digging a piece of paper out from his pocket Treville handed it over to the boy. “There’s my list and here’s enough money to cover it.” Grinning, he placed a pouch of coins in d’Artagnan’s hands. Tappng the pouch, Treville winked. “Enough’s in there for your sweet tooth as well, d’Art.”

“Merci, Captain.” Knowing that meant a trip to Madame de Bourbon’s candy store, d’Artagnan was eager to be off.

++++

_In the city_

Walking out of the saddlery, having placed the captain’s order, d’Artagnan made a beeline for his favorite store. This somewhat made up for the sadness that filled him, knowing that he and young Louis couldn’t go have fun together playing pranks and generally getting in everyone’s way.

Coming out of Madame de Bourbon’s, with a bag full of sweets, he accidentally bumped into someone. Steadying himself d’Artagnan automatically reached out a hand to catch the other person, making sure they didn’t take a nasty fall. Getting a whiff of perfume, d’Artagnan realized that he had nearly knocked over a lady.

Upon actually looking at her, d’Artagnan thought her very lovely. She reminded him of some of the ladies papa Aramis liked to flirt with. She had long dark, wavy hair and her features were set off by a pair of jade green eyes, which reminded d’Artagnan of several jade figurines that were displayed in the Louvre. Right now those eyes sparkled back at him with amusement.

“Escusats-me for my clumsiness, Mademoiselle.” Realizing he apologized in his native Gascon, d'Artagnan didn't bother correcting himself. His words were still recognizable. Sometimes he forgot himself and would slip into his mother tongue naturally.

"Tis _Madame_ ," she smirked. "In fact I'm a widow." Folding her arms she looked the boy up and down. "Whom do you belong to?"

Her tone raised his hackles, even if he had been in the wrong. Mimicking her stance, d'Artagnan arched a lone brow. "Myself."

"I like spirit in a child but only so much, mind you," she laughed. "Otherwise they become obnoxious brats."

Another brow rose up to match the other. Now the woman saw fit to put d’Artganan in his place by referring to him as a mere _child_. A category he had long grown out of, at least it was to his way of thinking. "With an attitude like yours, good luck in finding another husband." Blunt d'Artagnan had been but her words had rubbed him up the wrong way.

"What gave me away?" Chuckling, she was having fun at the youngster's expense. "Was it before or after I said _brats_?" Still amused at the boy's boldness, Milady contemplated the Gascon youth with something akin to respect. "And who says I want to get married again?" Her remark may have taken some of the wind out of d'Artagnan's sails.

So this was Athos' son. In the short amount of time Milady had had since discovering d'Artagnan belonged to her ex-husband, she found out as much as she could about the lad. More than likely the boy was used to speaking his mind, being surrounded mostly by adults as d'Artagnan had grown up. Unconsciously fingering her jeweled choker, Milady closely studied him.

From what she had gathered d'Artagnan was greatly favored by Their Majestys. The lad's friendship with the Dauphin was becoming legendary. Usually one was hardly ever seen without the other in tow. Bah, Children! she inwardly scoffed. There wasn't a motherly bone in Milady's body. If needs must, she could put up with them as long as they were someone elses problem and not hers. Normally Milady avoided them like the plague but she would make an exception for this one.

Stepping off to one side, d'Artagnan tried to move around her. It would seem that the older woman wasn't done with him yet, for every step he took she matched him. For a moment it nearly felt like they were dancing. Two steps forward... two steps back... three to the left and three to the right. "Madame," d'Artagnan huffed, rolling his eyes. "I must take my leave."

"So soon?" Delightfully amused once more, Milady noted the boy's face turning beet red. "We were just getting acquainted."

"Perhaps _you_ were, Madame, but I have things to attend to."

"Why such a hurry?" Oh she was enjoying herself.

"I have to get back to the Garrison. Captain Treville is expecting my return." It wasn't so much a lie, but d'Artagnan was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in her presence. Something about her unsettled him and he didn't know why that was.

"You're a bit on the young side to be one of King Louis' Musketeers." Ah! Now the lad's brown eyes turned stormy. Hit a nerve there she guessed.

"And for a stranger you ask too many questions." This time the woman let him pass.

"I didn't catch your name, young man." Watching d'Artagnan stop to glance over his shoulder at her, Milady coyly smiled.

"I didn't throw it." Pleased at his witty response d'Artagnan was glad that papa Athos wasn't anywhere around to hear him, for surely papa would have disapproved of his manners toward her. But something told him that he hadn't been dealing with a proper lady. A bit of irony there, for their female assassin had been a far cry from being _proper_ too. Papa Porthos would call it having a sixth sense. If that's what it was d'Artagnan would continue to listen to it if he ever ran into her again.

"Milady." Curtsying as she introduced herself, Milady grinned. "Tis what my friends call me."

"What do your _enemies_ call you?" Getting his own back, d'Artagnan laughed.

"Cheeky brat aren't you?" she snorted.

Dipping his head, d'Artagnan responded to her retort. "D'Art is what my friends call me but you may call me _d'Artagnan_." Clutching his bag of treats in one hand, he pushed his way past a group of women gathered at the corner of the street. By giving her permission to call him by his surname only, d'Artagnan felt that he had put Milady in her place. This time he could hear papa Aramis in his head berating him for his lack of manners.

Observing d'Artagnan until he was out of sight, Milady decided to return to her apartments. When next they met, and they would, she pondered on how to approach the boy again without annoying the youth too much. For he had clearly been irritated with her repartee but Milady simply couldn't help herself. Promising to be on her best behavior upon meeting d'Artagnan again, she leisurely strolled away.

++++

_Shortly after d'Artagnan's introduction to Milady_

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

Handing over the few coins d'Artagnan had left, he didn't understand why the captain appeared surprised. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"I honestly didn't expect any money back." Placing the remaining coins on his desk, Treville perched on the edge of it.

"Perhaps some of the items you required were on sale," d'Artagnan suggested.

Amused at that thought, Treville chuckled. "As long as I've done business with Monsieur Colville's saddlery that man has never put anything on discount." Quirking a brow he tacked on, "Especially where the Garrison's concerned. The more money Colville could squeeze out of the king's coffers spells profit for the man's business." Noting a bag being crushed in the boy's hand, Treville knew it came from the sweet shop d'Artagnan so loved to visit. "Perhaps you didn't spend enough on your own purchases."

Glancing down at the bag, d'Artagnan shook his head. "I have enough. Actually I believe Madame de Bourbon gave me more than I asked for." Offering some to the officer, d'Artagnan opened the bag up. 

Waving it away Treville's lips twitched. "I don't want to deprive the inseparables of those treats, d'Art." Upon the lad's eyes sliding away from his own, he had a feeling the youngster wasn't going to share. "Going to keep them all for yourself, eh? Can't say I blame you."

Sighing, d'Artagnan looked at his treats again. "I guess I'll let them have some."

He was going to tease the boy further, until Treville noted an unsettled expression cover d'Artagnan's face. "Did something occur on your errand?"

"There was this woman..." not finishing what he was going to say because of the captain's booming laughter filling the room, d'Artagnan was startled.

"I hear the sounds of Aramis in there somewhere." Feeling that the marksman was contaminating the lad, Treville wondered if perhaps he needed to speak with Aramis over it. Rubbing his chin in thought, he changed his mind. Best to keep things like this to one's self, unless they start to become troublesome.

Blushing, d'Artagnan's face filled with heat, while trying to avoid Treville's amused gaze.

"All right, lad, what about her?"

"I don't know that's the problem." Scowling at the floor, d'Artagnan didn't understand why he let their brief encounter bother him. Still he couldn't ignore the feeling that Milady had known who d'Artagnan was before they had ever met.

Treville's smile faded upon noting d'Artagnan was really disturbed over his encounter. "Did this woman threaten you in any way?"

"Irritated me was all." Remembering his conversation with Milady, d'Artagnan scowled all the more.

"Describe her to me." Not comfortable with hearing this news coming on the heels of Jacqueme's and De Barville's deaths, not to mention the female assassin's unknown demise, Treville became increasingly worried.

"Beautiful I suppose," d'Artagnan shrugged, "for an older woman that is." Trying to gauge Milady's age, he remembered her features. "If I had to hazard a guess perhaps she would be around papa Athos' and papa Porthos' ages."

That would put her around thirty two or thirty three. Brows drawing together in concentration, Treville didn't realize it but his face took on a severe appearance.

Concerned upon the captain's reaction, d'Artagnan hesitated to continue. When the captain motioned for him to carry on he added, "Milady's dark hair was worn past her shoulders and her eyes were green."

" _Milady?_ "

"That's what she called herself." Ducking his head, d'Artagnan suddenly found his boots most fascinating. "I'm afraid my manners may have slipped in her presence."

"Gave her some cheek did you?" When the lad refused to look Treville in the eye, he gently squeezed the back of the boy's neck. "I'm sure you had a good reason for acting the way you did." Tapping the young Gascon's cheek, Treville waited for d'Artagnan to look at him. "Your instincts have always been good, d'Art. Trust in them. They will never fail you."

"Twas a most uncomfortable meeting," d'Artagnan admitted.

"If you felt that way with her there was obviously something about Milady that bothered you." Holding up a finger, Treville indicated he wasn't done saying his piece. "If next you meet again be on your guard and let one of us know about it."

"I definitely have a feeling our paths are destined to cross again." Not knowing whether to feel irritated over that or scared, d'Artagnan caught an odd look in the captain's eyes.

"Was there anything else that made this woman stand out to you?"

"Fancy dress like most of the upper crust ladies wear." Knowing that there was something he had forgotten, d'Artagnan tried hard to remember. Snapping his fingers when it came to him he said, "Milady wore a choker about her neck that she kept touching as if to make sure it was still in place. That's about it I think."

"Fine, lad." Knowing it was past five o'clock by now, Treville wanted d'Artagnan safely home before dark. "Go get Tempest from the stable and get on home before the inseparables send out a search party."

"My thanks again for the coin to purchase the candy, sir."

Waving the boy off, Treville went to the balcony making sure d'Artagnan went straight to the stable without a detour. This Milady sounded mysterious and he had never enjoyed mysteries. He had a strange feeling suddenly overcome him. Not quite like someone walking over his grave... more like the past rearing its ugly head.

There had been rumors of late. _Rumors_ he dared not tell Athos about. The younger man hadn't become settled in his own skin, until the day Athos and his brothers had adopted a three year old d'Artagnan. Never had Treville wanted to disrupt the balance Athos had finally reached in his life. But d'Artagnan's description of this Milady, right down to the choker she wore, made Treville pray that he was wrong.

If she knows who their youngest belonged to then Treville wasn't doing his lieutenant any favors by keeping his silence. Going back to his desk Treville placed his face in his hands, remaining that way for several minutes, before collecting himself and focusing on what needed his attention.

++++

_The Royal Eagle Tavern_

Winding up their day of patrolling the city, the inseparables came crashing out of the tavern's doors. All three Musketeers were sprawled on the ground. Getting back up they dusted themselves off and ran back inside.

This time Porthos came out first holding a drunken man by the scruff of his neck. Shaking the incoherent man he then threw him onto the street. Ditto for Aramis and Athos with the ones they were dealing with.

The men the inseparables dragged out of the tavern had been bothering the patrons inside. One man in particular kept trying to force himself back into the building. Having had enough for the day, only to end up with this drunken lout, Porthos swore under his breath. Throwing the man over his shoulder he walked over to a horse trough to dump the man into the water. "That should sober ya up in a hurry."

Giving a swift kick to the rear of the one he had been struggling with, Athos watched the man land on his stomach in the dirt. Casually leaning against a lamp post, legs crossed, Athos listened to the drunk shout curses until he was blue in the face. Noting Aramis still tussling with the one he had, Athos glowered. "Do hurry it up. D'Art will be home before us at this rate."

Having to resort to his fists, Aramis punched the oaf in the stomach. When the drunk somehow managed to turn the tables, getting Aramis into a headlock, the marksman easily slipped out of it like an eel. Furious now, Aramis gave a mighty kick to the inebriated man's backside. "Some people just need a hug..." ducking from a fist aimed at his face Aramis' chapeau went flying, "around the neck... with a rope." Twisting the drunkard's arms behind his back, Aramis rolled his eyes at his friends. "A little help here."

Being the generous souls that they were, Athos and Porthos lent their brother an extra set of hands. Having given the trio of troublemakers fair warning that next time they wouldn't be so gentle with them, the inseparables thought that was the end of it. They were wrong as the man Porthos had grappled with opened his mouth, spouting more vile curses at them.

"Boyo," Porthos growled, "life is short. Smile while ya still 'ave teeth." Watching his words register, the curses instantly stopped and the drunkard slunk away with help from his two soused companions.

"Think we could go home now?" Athos tiredly drawled.

"Captain Treville won't need our report until the morn." Pointing that out, Aramis was all to happy to leave.

"Let's hope the whelp 'ad enough ta do ta keep 'im outta trouble." Mounting Roulette, Porthos waited for his brothers to do likewise. Then all three of them left the city behind.

++++

_Notes:_

_Escusats-me_ – excuse me in Gascon

 _Quote: "Some people just need a hug... around the neck... with a rope."_ \- from Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "Life is short. Smile while you still have teeth."_ from Aunty Acid


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter to everyone that celebrates the holy season!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, around 5:30 pm - Inseparable's residence_

D'Artagnan heard the men enter the house before he had a chance to come out of his room. Upon noting papa Athos appeared to be in a great deal of pain, d'Artagnan immediately rushed to his side. "Papa, have you been injured again? Where are you hurt?" The words tripped over his tongue, in his hurry to get them out.

Rubbing his right shoulder, Athos winced. "Non, pup." Carelessly throwing his chapeau onto the sofa he removed his weapons belt and let d'Artagnan help him out of his doublet.

Getting papa Athos out of his doublet proved a painful situation, as papa let out low groaning sounds when d'Artagnan gently helped him remove his right arm from the sleeve. When that had been accomplished, it was then that d'Artagnan noted blood on papa Athos' shirt. It gave him pause for alarm, realizing that it was in the same area where the assassin had injured papa. "Papa Aramis told us you would be all right after he treated your wound,” he said crossly. “So why is it bleeding again?"

"By him bein' a right stubborn ass." Going to a cabinet where they kept their medical supplies, Porthos came back with clean linens and some alcohol. Placing them on a table, he stepped aside for Aramis to take over.

"I told you to stay home and rest that shoulder," Aramis snapped. "But, non, you pretended to know better than the rest of us mere peons." Waving a piece of white linen in Athos' face, as if it were a flag of surrender, Aramis huffed. "The fight aggravated your injury, as you very well now realize."

"What fight?" Looking back and forth between them d'Artagnan noted papa Athos' lips tighten, apparently not liking what papa Aramis had just pointed out.

"There were complaints about several highly intoxicated individuals bothering patrons in one of our local taverns," Athos bit out. "I may have been a tad too vigorous in my dealings with one of them."

Snorting loudly, Porthos exchanged wry looks with Aramis. "A _tad_ vigorous the man says. Yeah that sounds about right,” he grunted with a roll of eyes.

"A mule doesn't have anything on Athos that's for sure. Porthos was right in his assessment of our brother’s character." Angrily muttering under his breath, Aramis cleaned the blood away then swabbed the area with alcohol. "I swear if you had torn any of my stitches, mon ami, you'd be doing nothing but desk duty until it healed. I’d make sure the captain enforced it too."

"You would have informed Treville?" Arching a brow, Athos was skeptical that his friend would tell on him. After all how many times had Athos and Porthos kept Aramis’ activities from the captain, not to get the man in trouble?

Wrapping the cloth around the injury, Aramis evilly grinned back at his friend. "Try me."

"This morn, after you padded it in such a way that there wasn’t any discomfort at all, I felt fine." That was all Athos was willing to offer in his defense. Observing d'Artagnan taking everything in, he attempted a smile. When the boy also rolled his eyes at him, Athos assumed the attempt fell rather flat. "How was your day, lad?" Hoping to sidetrack Aramis with questions upon their son's activities, Athos waited to hear how d'Artagnan had fared today.

"After my chores here I had a boring time with my lessons again," d'Artagnan sighed. "Tis not fun without teasing young Louis the way I usually do."

"It's ta keep ya both outta mischief for your own good." The kid's pout would have worked on Porthos any other time but today, knowing what was behind it.

"When school was done I went straight to the stables and helped out with the horses for a time." Smiling at the recent memory, d'Artagnan had enjoyed his time there the most. "Later Captain Treville needed to send me into the city to place an order at the saddlery for him."

"Ya stopped for some candy I see." Picking the full bag up from the table Porthos peeked into it. "Ya gonna keep this all ta yourself, runt?" Shaking the bag in the air, he winked at Aramis. Both of them could see annoyance growing on the pup's face.

"Oh go ahead," d'Artagnan grudgingly offered. "You're going to anyway no matter what I say."

A bubble of laughter escaped Aramis who just put the finishing touches on Athos' wound. "Porthos, leave our son's sweets alone. By the sounds of it he earned them today."

"I'm willing to share." Beginning to feel like a miser, d'Artagnan sent them a look of apology. Taking the bag from papa Porthos he reached inside for some candy.

"I'll just take a couple of pieces, d'Art." Holding out a large hand, Porthos watched the whelp drop some of his favorites into his palm.

"Take some too, papa Aramis."

Opening the proffered bag, Aramis noted the selection and couldn't decide what he'd like best. “Mmmmm, what a variety to choose from.”

"Oh mon Dieu! Just pick something!" His sore shoulder was making Athos more irritable than usual. Thus he lost his patience with his friend for dithering so.

"Athos can't wait for 'is turn is all." Porthos’ gruff laughter filled the room.

"I do not like candy." Retorting stiffly, Athos pushed the bag d'Artagnan offered him away. "Where did you come by the money to purchase it anyway?"

"The captain told me he added extra coin so I could buy some." His papas all appeared pleased to have heard that. "I thought it quite nice of him."

"Treville can be a generous man to his friends." Standing up Athos slowly walked toward his room, trying to rotate his right arm as he went. "Think I'll take a quick nap before dinner." He hated to say that, knowing all of them would realize what was behind it. Perhaps he had been too eager to go back to work after receiving his injury but even at sword’s point he would never admit that to the others.

"Want me to read to you?" Following close behind, d'Artagnan didn't expect papa Athos to stop so abruptly. It resulted in him stumbling into papa's back.

Turning around, he stared at his son in surprise. Seeing nothing but sincerity in the youngster’s brown orbs, Athos nodded his approval. "Fancy reading me to sleep, eh?"

Flushing, d'Artagnan hung his head down. "It would always help me whenever I was sick or hurt."

Tipping the pup's chin up with a finger Athos' eyes crinkled up in the corners, giving his son a warm smile. "Come then. We shall see if I have anything worthy enough on my book shelf that would do the trick."

When the door closed behind the pair, Porthos and Aramis stood in the main room with their mouth's hanging open.

"The whelp's gonna read ta Athos?" Not being able to wrap his head around that concept, Porthos followed a bemused Aramis into the kitchen. "Think 'e 'urt 'is 'ead in that fight along with 'is shoulder?"

"Why? Because Athos is letting our son read to him?" Digging out the skillet, Aramis contemplated what to prepare for dinner. "I think it rather sweet."

"Like that candy of d'Art's." Chuckling, Porthos began chopping lettuce and vegetables for their salad. It was about the only thing that Aramis allowed him to do in the kitchen without setting it on fire.

++++

About fifteen minutes later d'Artagnan followed the aroma coming from the kitchen. He was pleased to find out that chicken was on the menu for tonight’s repast.

"That was fast, whelp."

"Are we to believe that Athos now rests in the arms of Morpheus now?" Adding some seasoning again to the cutlets, Aramis glanced sideways at the boy.

"Yup." Leaning against the entrance, arms folded, d'Artagnan watched papa Porthos mixing the salad together. It probably was the safest thing for papa to make, considering what d’Artagnan had garnered from others. "It didn't take very long after I started reading to him for papa to nod off." Watching papa Aramis cooking he asked, "Do I have time to do my lesson assignment before we eat?"

Humming softly to himself, Aramis concentrated on not burning the chicken like he nearly had the steaks. "Everything will be ready shortly so I doubt it."

"I'll start on it anyway and finish after we're done eating." Worrying about whether he should tell them about his encounter with the sharp-tongued Milady, d'Artagnan decided against it. Why make a mountain out of a molehill? Best to keep this to himself for a time. Bad enough that he had already told the captain. Hopefully the older officer would leave it up to d'Artagnan when and where to speak to his papas about it. Anyway it wasn't as if Milady was another assassin. That would simply be too much of a coincidence. Leaving the kitchen, he went to study in his room.

++++

_Milady's apartments_

With Sophia taken care of, Milady awaited word on what her next assignment would entail. Because things had gone to hell in a handbasket, whatever else her employers were plotting in that regard had been put on hold or tossed out the window altogether with the dirty water.

It was tedious all this waiting around. On the other hand it gave Milady the excuse to spend all that lovely money she had earned on gowns and jewels... a woman's best friend. At least they were to her. A lady could never have too many of either in her collection. They were Milady's armor against the world. If you were pretty enough, rich enough, the world could be your oyster. One day Milady would have Athos where she wanted him… on his knees preferably begging her forgiveness. Turning the tables on the former Comte de la Fere would indeed be the icing on her cake, because it would taste so sweet.

As she sat on her small balcony overlooking the streets of Paris, Milady enjoyed a bon bon or two from the very same shop where she had met the young Gascon. Putting Madame de Bourbon's business at the top of her list of establishments not to be missed, Milady popped another sweet into her mouth.

She was bored. There Milady finally admitted it to herself. Perhaps she was in need of another rich lover. Since the passing of Lord de Winter, she had been too busy at first spending her dearly departed husband's money to look for a suitable replacement. Now that that money was nearly gone, she had sought employment.

Something Milady detested with a passion was working for a living. If she were to survive, it was something that had to be done. Hence her current working relationship. The men Milady dealt with preferred to keep their names anonymous, for obvious reasons. Therefore she hadn't a clue about them. Which, of course, was neither here nor there as far as Milady was concerned as long as the money kept flowing into her pockets.

Back to her musings upon setting herself up as a rich man's mistress once more, Milady would happily cast aside her old profession upon meeting the right man with the richest purse. Perhaps she's tarried to long in that regard. Since Milady was now in Paris, her circumstances could soon change for the better. With her access to the palace, perhaps the right gentleman would fall into her lap when least expected. On that happy thought, Milady ate a few more bon bons.

++++

_Back at the Inseparable's home again_

Dinner was a boisterous affair, with Porthos expanding on the fight they had on their last patrol of the city.

Waving his fork in the air, Aramis slyly winked at his son. "You should have seen Porthos sling that one drunken sod over his shoulder and dump him into the nearest horse trough." Vividly remembering that moment, Aramis shared amused looks with Athos. "Not so much our gentle giant then, eh?"

"Mis!" Sending his friend a warning growl, Porthos tapped the whelp's hand. "You'll give our kid a bad impression of me."

"Mon ami," Aramis exclaimed, feigning shock, "d'Art already knows your personality... warts and all."

Frowning, Porthos sniped back. "I wish some people would introduce their upper lip ta their lower lip... and shut the hell up!"

Hand over his heart, Aramis pouted. "I am wounded, mon frere, deeply." There was an underlying note of mirth hidden in his words that wasn't lost on any of them, especially Porthos.

Clearing his throat, Athos asked for more coffee. "There is more isn't there?"

Pouring his brother's fourth cup for him, Aramis clucked like a mother hen. "Do you not think you've had enough? You'll never get to sleep at this rate."

Sipping at the dark liquid, Athos sighed. "Coffee isn't just a drink, Aramis, tis a cup of sanity," he shrugged. "Or it has been for me of late."

Knowing how the older man had severely cut back on his drinking, when d'Artagnan came into their lives, Aramis resisted saying anything further upon it.

Sitting back in his chair Athos blinked his eyes a few times, trying to keep them open, then followed up by yawning.

Perhaps, in Athos' case Aramis had been wrong about the caffeine's effect on the older man.

Pushing back his chair, Athos’ sleepy gaze encompassed everyone.

"Mis," Porthos hissed. "Ya didn't put a sleepin' draught inta 'is coffee did ya?" When Aramis simply gave him a blank look, Porthos could only assume that when Athos irritated his shoulder the pain from it was wearing his brother out.

"Everyone says you should follow your dreams," Athos gave them all a small salute, "so I am going back to bed."

Three pairs of eyes watched Athos exit the kitchen. When he had disappeared into the next room, all of them began to laugh.

"That wasn't like papa." Wiping tears from his face, d'Artagnan got up to help with the dishes.

"Athos was simply tired, lad." Taking the empty plates from the boy's hands, Aramis smiled. "Don't worry about washing up. You have homework to finish." Glancing at his larger brother relaxing in the chair, Aramis crooked a finger at him to come over to the sink. "Porthos will be happy to help me."

"I will?" Watching the kid's uncertain face, Porthos instantly bobbed his head up and down. "Of course I will. Scram, runt." As soon as d'Artagnan left the room, he glared at the satisfied smirk Aramis wore. "Ya set me up."

"Of course I did." Throwing a clean dish towel at Porthos' face Aramis began scrubbing the skillet. Humming away, he realized his friend was rather irritated with the way he managed to gain Porthos' help. "Don't worry there really isn't that much to do."

Snatching a rinsed plate from Aramis' hands, Porthos contemplated whether or not to bash it over his friend's head. He hadn't intended on helping with the dishes, since Porthos already fixed the salads and made sure the table was set. "Ever 'eard of slave labor, Mis."

"Oh ho!" Aramis' shoulders began to shake with amusement. "Are you really going to stand there and say that to me, mon frere? I mean really?"

The more Porthos thought on what he had just said, he too began to laugh. "Yeah, that was kind of mean of me. Sorry."

"Apology accepted." Still chuckling, Aramis continued washing the rest of the dishes. "Why don't you and I enjoyed a glass of Athos' Anjou after we're done?"

"We gonna break open the cabinet?" Porthos asked. "Ya know 'e keeps that one locked."

"Only because he was saving it for a special occasion." Dark eyes twinkling, Aramis smiled at the concern written on his friend's face.

"'E's gonna know it was us." Frowning, Porthos shook his head. "I don't think it's such a good idea."

"Since Athos doesn't drink like he used too, that Anjou's been sitting there gathering dust." Finished washing, Aramis motioned for Porthos to hurry up. "By the time Athos decides to give it some air he won't notice that it has gone down slightly."

"When ya put it like that it don't sound so bad." Grinning, Porthos dried the last of the dishes and put them away. "I worked up a thirst anyway."

++++

Before the two men shared a glass of Anjou, Aramis checked on his friend. True to the man's word, Athos was deeply asleep. Aramis was pleased that the injury to his brother's shoulder wasn't bothering Athos and keeping him from a proper rest.

Aramis spent the rest of the evening reading a book of his favorite poetry. His duties of late had kept him from getting back to it. Curled up by his feet was a very contented Alex. For once she wasn't calling attention to herself with crazy antics that would drive them all to distraction.

When d'Artagnan finished studying, he went to put his books back in his room. Walking past papa Porthos, he felt a tug on his arm. Noting the cards spread out on the table, d'Artagnan figured he was about to be drawn into a game.

"Come on, kid," Porthos coaxed. "Keep me company." Waiting for the pup to put the books down, he shuffled a deck of cards. "I ain't supposed ta do this but I think a part of your education is sadly lacking."

A quick look at papa Aramis showed d'Artagnan that he wasn't paying them any attention. Whispering in papa Porthos' ear he said, "You're going to teach me how to cheat aren't you?" Chewing his bottom lip d'Artagnan wasn't sure this was something he was supposed to learn.

"I don't call it that, whelp." Keeping his voice low enough to not gain his friend's attention, Porthos spread out the cards and began to instruct the lad. "Remember this is an art if ya do it right." Hopefully Aramis would think it's just an innocent card game and not that d'Artagnan was learning how to fleece someone. 

Yeah right, d'Artagnan thought. An _art_ that could get his hide tanned if the others found out. Still he remained seated and listened while papa Porthos shared his knowledge with him. By the time they were done with the game, he was ready to turn in. D'Artagnan didn't believe he'd remember all those tricks papa shared with him anyway. He also knew he would never put them to use. Being honest as the day was long d'Artagnan didn't believe in cheating others out of their hard-earned coin. A concept papa didn't always agree with.

Learning long ago about papa Porthos' life in the Court, d'Artagnan couldn't fault him for the way he had grown up and the things papa had to do to survive. D'Artagnan had no problem with that part of papa's life. Anyway d'Artagnan doubted he could pull off the sleight of hand as well as papa could. Still it had been fun listening and watching the tricks he was shown. It would come in handy for those times he played against papa Athos and papa Aramis. Yawning, d'Artagnan stretched his arms over his head. "Think tis probably past time I was in bed." Tapping the reshuffled deck of cards, d'Artagnan grinned. "My thanks for the lesson."

“See you in the morn, son.” Turning a page in his book, Aramis felt a light kiss drop on top of his curls. Smiling up at the boy, he fondly patted d'Artagnan's cheek. Observing the lad repeat the same gesture with Porthos, Aramis resumed reading.

"Make sure Alex doesn’t keep ya up late,” Porthos added with a twinkle in his eyes enjoying d’Artagnan’s light laughter.

“Bonne nuit, papas.” With Alex trotting after him, d’Artagnan closed the door to his room.

Flipping to another page, and without lifting his head from the book, Aramis said, “You do realize that if Athos ever found out you’re dead meat, Porthos.”

Reshuffling the deck of cards Porthos spread them out on the table again. A nice quiet game of Solitaire before bedtime would suit him just fine. “Don’t know what you’re on about, Mis.”

Chuckling softly, Aramis continued reading until his eyes grew too heavy to keep open. Before entering his own room, he leaned against the doorframe. “The minute d’Art beats any of us in a game of cards, Athos is going to know, mon ami, and it won't be my head that would roll."

Amused, Porthos shot back with, “And I’ll say it was beginner’s luck.”

“Have it your way.” Halfway into his room, Aramis poked his head back out. “Bonne nuit.”

“Sleep well, Mis.”

++++

_Next day_

After his normal routine at home, d’Artagnan once more found his lessons extremely boring. It didn’t help that young Louis’ sad eyes followed his every movement either. The only thing he looked forward to was his time with the Garrison horses and the wild tales told to him by old Serge.

With the captain not having any chores for him, d’Artagnan was allowed to watch several of the Musketeers sparring together. It helped that he was friends with most of the regiment and they didn’t mind him hanging around.

Observing Merle going against Eustis, d’Artagnan carefully noted their movements. Occasionally he called out to Merle, telling the older man what he was doing wrong.

“D’Art!” Shouting to the boy, Eustis waved the young Gascon over. “Why don’t you show Merle how tis done then by sparring with me.”

With all the confidence of youth, plus the advantage of having three of the best Musketeers in the regiment as his papas, d’Artagnan unsheathed his sword. Taking up position against Eustis, he waited for the other man to make the first move.

Even knowing that the pup had been trained by the inseparables, d’Artagnan still was only twelve years of age, so Eustis wasn't concerned. He thought that the lad would benefit from his own years of experience. If all went well, it would be Eustis teaching the youngster a thing or two. In that he couldn’t have been more wrong. D’Artagnan used every weapon at his disposal against him. Being light and quick on his feet, the youth was beginning to make Eustis dizzy. He wasn’t able to land a single strike on the boy. It didn’t help that Merle was laughing his fool head off either.

They also had drawn an audience of other Musketeers. Some shouted encouraging words to Eustis and others to d’Artagnan. The tipping point came when the lad jumped on top of an empty bench dancing across it while they still crossed swords. Then to Eustis’ amazement d’Artagnan somersaulted over his head, ending up behind him with a sword against Eustis' neck and a main gauche against his side.

“Do you surrender, Eustis?”

Hearing youthful laughter in d’Artagnan’s voice, Eustis threw his blade down. When the other men began applauding the lad’s ingenuity, he clapped d’Artagnan’s shoulder. "Just don’t tell the inseparables how badly you beat me. I don't believe I could handle the humiliation."

"I do it to them all the time," d'Artagnan impishly grinned. "So don't feel too badly." Going over to Germain's side he held out his hand. Watching as several coins were dropped into it, d'Artagnan could hear Eustis in the background complaining about his fellow comrades placing bets against him. "I knew you would end up doing this. You're as bad as papa Porthos." Pocketing the money he dipped his head. "Merci."

"I've had more opportunity to watch you practice with the inseparables than Eustis has. Seeing how good you've become at swordplay I guessed what the outcome would be," Germain winked. "I suppose I could have been a better friend to Eustis and warned him but tis his loss and my gain."

"So where to next, d'Artagnan?" Merle asked, as he joined them.

"Since Captain Treville doesn't have need of me I promised papa Aramis I'd pick up a few items for him in the city."

"Don't spend your winnings all in one place, d'Art." Slapping the youth on the back, Germain slipped his own winnings into the pocket of his doublet.

++++

_Shopping in the city_

Monsieur Leclerc's bookstore held volumes and volumes of reading material. Having visited the shop on more than one occasion, with papa Aramis and papa Athos, d'Artagnan knew exactly where certain works were shelved. Having bought several books of poetry papa wanted to add to his own collection, d'Artagnan stepped out of the building.

"We do keep bumping into each other don't we, d'Artagnan?"

Recognizing the scent of her perfume first, the woman's voice second, d'Artagnan knew twas Milady without even looking at her. Turning around he dipped his head politely. "Are you following me by any chance? Perhaps coincidence has nothing to do with it."

Keeping pace with the boy, as he continued walking down the street, Milady was silent for a moment. "I will admit to having seen you enter the store and just couldn't resist making a pest out of myself."

Sidestepping away from a man that was in a big rush d'Artagnan gripped his purchases tightly, not wanting anything to happen to the books.

Tilting her head to the side, Milady read the titles of the volumes the lad was protecting. Surprise was in her voice as she said, "Tis not the type of reading material I would have thought a lad of your age would have been interested in."

"They're for papa Aramis."

"Ah oui," she murmured. "The scholarly, handsome, Musketeer."

"You know him then?" That was curious, d'Artagnan thought. He had never seen the woman around any of his papas before.

"Rather I know of him." Shrugging a slim shoulder, Milady continued. "From what I've heard most of the ladies in Paris are familiar with the man."

"Tis a bit of an exaggeration, Milady." His eyes danced with merriment. "Perhaps about half of them have made papa's acquaintance."

Not expecting the youngster to tease her, Milady at first didn't know how to react. Then she began to laugh at d'Artagnan's sense of humor as they began crossing the street. Her mirth, however, was cut short upon hearing loud shouts coming from the end of the block. Apparently a team of horses had become untethered and were running free down the street. People were scrambling to get out of the way or else get trampled upon. Something that Milady didn't want to happen to herself if she could help it.

Grabbing Milady's arm d'Artagnan hastily pushed her back onto the cobbled walk, just as the horses raced past them. Having lost their balance in the process, both had fallen down. Helping Milady regain her footing d'Artagnan then dusted himself off while she did the same.

"That was most unexpected." Still brushing the dust away from her dress, Milady glanced at the boy. "One never knows what delights Paris has in store."

"I wouldn't exactly call what nearly happend as a _delight_ , Milady."

"Non, you probably wouldn't," she smirked. "Still, merci beau coup. I appreciate the save."

"Anytime." Watching some men frantically run down the street chasing after the runaway horses, d'Artagnan stifled his laughter at the picture they presented. "I do believe they need some help." Turning to Milady he asked, "Would you mind holding these books?" Not waiting for her response, he shoved them into her hands.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "Better yet... what are you planning to do?"

"I'm lending some aid like a good citizen should." Then he started walking over to where all the chaos was.

"D'Artagnan, you could get hurt!" she shouted, worry entering Milady's voice. "They're running wild!"

"I have a knack with horses. I'll take my chances." Noting the men had finally caught up to the runaways, managing to corner them, d'Artagnan slowly approached the frightened animals.

Some of the older men knew d'Artagnan and welcomed his presence. Moving aside, to let the youth work his special brand of magic, they held their breath. The boy took a length of rope from one of them and began flicking it around the horse's chests and underneath their barrels a few times. All the while the lad murmured soothing words to them. Within a few minutes the horses calmed down to the point where their owner was able to lead them away with no trouble.

Receiving thanks from everyone d'Artagnan rejoined Milady. When she handed him back the poetry books, he smiled.

"That was more than a knack." Amazed at what the boy had accomplished, Milady couldn't think of anything witty to add.

"I lived on a farm until the age of three and young though I was I could remember how papa handled our horses whenever they became frisky." Fiddling with the books he held, d'Artagnan missed her bemused expression. "Also it greatly helps to have a friend of papa Porthos that owns a nearby farm. Monsieur lets me help out from time to time."

"You know I can see why Their Majestys and the Dauphin treasure you." Noting the blush that stole over the lad's face she tacked on, "Word does get around."

"At least this time we managed to be civil with each other." Lips curling up into another smile d'Artagnan bid her goodbye. "Adieu, Milady."

"Au revoir." Oh we shall meet again young d'Artagnan. I'll make certain of it."

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "I wish some people would introduce their upper lip to their lower lip... and shut the hell up!"_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "Coffee isn't just a drink. It's a cup of sanity."_ from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "Everyone says you should follow your dreams...so I'm going back to bed."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Bonne nuit_ \- is used to say goodnight when going to bed.

A _Barrel_ on a horse - Is the big round area of the horses's body below the back where the ribs are located.

And yes, for anyone that remembers the episode _"The Queen's Diamonds"_ that's where the inspiration came from for d'Art to calm the horses down (grins).


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day – the Inseparable’s residence, after dinner_

“I appreciate you picking up my books for me from Lecleric’s shop, d’Art.” Thumbing through the pages of the first volume of poetry, Aramis was well pleased with it.

“Don’t know what ya get outta readin’ that highbrow stuff, Mis.”

Aghast at Porthos’ words Aramis held the book up in the air he had been perusing, shaking it at his large friend.

“Poetry is like fish,” Aramis slyly grinned. “If tis fresh, tis good. If tis stale, tis bad.” Chuckling at the face Porthos pulled, Aramis winked at d’Artagnan. “And if you’re not certain,” he bent down to rub behind Alex’s ear, “try it on the cat.”

A bark of laughter burst from Porthos’ large frame, shaking his entire body. “That made about as much sense as listenin’ ta that last session of King Louis’ council we ‘ad ta guard.”

“One of these days, mon frere,” Aramis wagged a finger at his friend, “you’ll develop a taste for this fine literature.” Taking the stack of books to his room, Aramis ruffled d’Artagnan’s long hair as he passed by the lad.

Rounding out the evening, d’Artagnan told his papas about helping out with the runaway horses that got loose in town. He chose, once more, to leave out his encounter with the mysterious Milady.

“Ya did good, runt,” Porthos praised. “Always did ‘ave a way with ‘em.”

“I assume the owner was grateful for your intervention.” Stretching out in his favorite chair, Athos was satisfied how his son had taken action.

“Oui, papa, he was.” Sitting on the floor, near papa Athos, d’Artagnan rubbed Alex’s stomach. His pet was on her back, all limbs spread out, purring away as he stroked the cat’s marmalade colored fur.

“Alex isn’t as spry as she once was.” Taking over one of the vacant chairs, Aramis got comfortable. “Alas, she’s getting older just like the rest of us.” Gazing fondly at his son and Alex he added, “but she’s aging rather gracefully.”

“I’ve had Alex since I was three,” d’Artagnan murmured, still running his fingers over her softness. “Ten years older and I’ve quite forgotten how many lives she’s gone through by now.” A quiet snort came from directly behind d’Artagnan. Twisting his head around, he noted papa Athos’ smirk.

“I believe Alex has gone through all of them, d’Art," Athos remarked. "She’s existing on borrowed time.”

“Not funny, papa.” Laying on his back, d’Artagnan let Alex climb onto his stomach. She then curled her body into a ball and closed her eyes, sleep claiming Alex almost immediately. D’Artagnan soon followed his pet’s example, falling sound asleep.

"Looks like both of 'em are ready for bed." It was a cute picture the two of them made lying there. "'Eard the whelp impressed Eustis at the Garrison this afternoon."

"Ah, oui." Lips twitching, Athos gazed down at the boy. "Treville informed me what happened."

"Tis nothing new," Aramis offered. "D'Art has been impressing us since the age of three." Noting his friends all nod their heads, agreeing with him, Aramis went back to his reading.

"It would appear that Germain had placed bets on the outcome and that he gave some of his winnings to our lad." Staring straight at Porthos, Athos arched a brow. "Germain used to show good sense. Now he places bets on nearly everything." His voice sounded slightly irritated. "Sound familiar?"

"Why ya lookin' at me that way?" Avoiding direct contact with his older brother, Porthos glanced at Aramis who wasn't even paying any attention.

"Because you have been dragging Germain around with you whenever Aramis or myself have have duties elsewhere," Athos dryly pointed out.

"In other words," without lifting his head from his reading material Aramis said, "you've corrupted him, Porthos."

"Just because the two of ya don't know 'ow ta relax and enjoy yourselves anymore, don't mean I 'ave ta follow along." Chuckling, Porthos dared to look Athos in the face. "I know right from wrong." A wide grin spread across his dark features. "Wrong is the fun one."

"And that says it all in a nutshell." He knew Porthos would never change nor could Athos ask his friend to do so. But to give the man his due, Porthos had curbed his gambling habits while d'Artagnan had been a toddler. Now that the lad was older Porthos had slipped more and more back into his old habits.

"Ya know the older ya get, Athos, you're growin' stodgy." Another raised brow joined the other, telling Porthos exactly what Athos thought about that comment.

Wanting to change the subject, Aramis gave both his friends a pointed look. "I believe one of us should wake d'Artagnan so the pup could have a proper sleep in his own bed." Since neither of his brothers moved a muscle, Aramis went over to gently shake the lad's shoulder. "Time to turn in, mon fils."

Blinking owlishly, d'Artagnan noted the amused expression on papa Aramis' face. "Guess I was more tired than I thought." Gently lifting Alex off of his chest, he placed her to the side. Not disturbed, she still slept peacefully on. Slowly getting up, d'Artagnan gave a lazy wave to everyone before going to his room.

While removing his clothing, it came to d'Artagnan that perhaps he should have told his papas about Milady after all. Pulling his nightshirt over his head, he had to wonder why he hadn't. Crawling under the sheets d'Artagnan's eyes drifted shut. Deciding he'd worry about that another day, he instantly fell asleep.

++++

_Next day, mid morning_

Since it was now the weekend it meant the he had no school. So d'Artagnan was at loose ends. He had found out that Captain Treville didn't have need of him nor did Serge. It was mostly because a good portion of the regiment were either out patrolling or on training maneuvers. Also the others that remained were on guard duty at the Garrison or the Royal Palace. This also meant that only a few horses remained in the stables and neither Pierre or Andre would need an extra hand.

That's why d'Artagnan wasn't needed in old Serge's kitchen. Since there weren't that many Musketeers to prepare dinner for, the former Musketeer didn't need his help. Even d'Artagnan's papas were away on a short mission. Being idle never sat well with d'Artagnan. So after making a brief stop at home to pick up Alex he then found himself heading into the city, letting his feet lead him to the Court of Miracles.

The medallion, designed with the fleur-de-lis carved into it that Flea had gifted d'Artagnan with many years ago, glistened in the morning sun. It was meant to give him safe passage in the Court, though he really didn't need it. Everyone who lived within these walls knew him well by now.

Usually d'Artagnan was always accompanied by one of his papas, if not all three. They weren't very keen on him visiting the place by himself but occasionally d'Artagnan did so without them knowing. Today was one of those days. Walking down the narrow path, d'Artagnan was greeted with warm welcomes from the many who lived here.

"What brings ya down 'ere, d'Art?" Leaning against a wall, arms folded as a bright smile lit up her face, Flea watched the boy approach. She remembered the time when, with the innocence of youth, all d'Artagnan had wanted when he had turned four was to give her people food, supplies and money. The lad had wanted nothing for himself. That gesture alone endeared the boy to not only herself but everyone that resided in the Court.

"Tis the weekend and no one needs me with most of the Musketeers away or on duty elsewhere."

"Porthos too I see since he isn't with ya." She admitted to herself to feeling disappointed that her former lover hadn't come with the youngster.

"Along with papa Aramis and papa Athos," d'Artagnan added. "They're all away on an assignment but should be back by early eve." Alex was in his arms, beginning to get restless, but d'Artagnan was afraid to put her own in case she decided to explore on her own.

Throwing a companionable arm across the boy's shoulders, Flea drew d'Artagnan further down into the Court. They continued that way for a short time until the narrow path opened up wider, leading them to a different type of French port.

Eyes widening with excitement, d'Artagnan glanced at Flea who appeared very pleased about something. "You mean _he's_ back?"

"Ya timed your visit ta us just right, d'Art," she laughed. Pointing toward the huge ship docked and bustling with activity she said, "Captin' Roussel was askin' about ya almost as soon as 'e got off 'is ship."

D'Artagnan couldn't wait to see the older seaman. They had met when he was only nine years of age and had instantly hit it off. They'd been friends ever since. Unfortunately, d'Artagnan's papas thought Captain Roussel was a bad influence for him. None of them were too happy for d'Artagnan to spend any length of time with the captain.

It was mostly because Captain Roussel was a privateer. A corsaire working on behalf of the French crown. Even though France wasn't currently at war with any other countries, Louis had made use of the captain in earlier skirmishes. From time to time he still did.

In some circles, privateers were considered no better than pirates. Bien, d'Artagnan had always had a soft spot for that type. Even though papa Porthos frowned on his friendship with Captain Roussel, there had been a time when d'Artagnan had been a petit that papa Porthos tried to convince him that he had been a pirate. D'Artagnan never did believe him.

Twas a shame young Louis would never get the chance to meet the captain. His best friend would have so enjoyed the seaman's company. Captain Roussel was nearly as good as Serge in the tall tale department. Honestly, d'Artagnan believed only half of what the captain told him. The other half he put down to flights of fancy or simply being at sea way too long.

The times d'Artagnan looked forward to the best were when Captain Roussel would bring him a trinket or two from his travels. It was always something exotic and d'Artagnan happily added them to his growing collection. While lost in past memories, he nearly didn't hear his name being hailed.

"Bonjour, d'Art!" Roussel's booming voice carried from the deck of his beloved ship Le Corsaire Rouge. "Aye, lad! Come on up here and join me! We can catch up!"

With another bright smile from Flea, and a gentle shove toward the ship, he walked up the gangplank and into the strong arms of the captain. Breaking out of the hold, d'Artagnan was careful not to squash Alex between them for the older seaman was muscular and built nearly as big as papa Porthos. "I had no idea you were returning yet."

"Then how do you come to be here then, boyo?"

"Pure coincidence on my part," d'Artagnan smiled. "I'm sure glad I listened to my inner voice today."

"Whispered to you did it? Aye, I’m sure it did." Roussel's gruff laughter followed them all the way down to his quarters. "I'm glad to see Alex is with you too." Running a large finger down her furry back, he smiled when Alex began purring. "Don't be afraid to put her down, d'Art. She can't get too lost in my cabin."

Setting Alex down, d'Artagnan crossed over to the captain's desk. It was covered with several large maps, along with a compass and sextant. "Find any treasure while you were roaming the seven seas?"

"Not this trip, lad. Sorry to say." With a rueful shake of his head Roussel let out a deep sigh. "Truth is I never realized how hilarious I was until I started talking to myself." Chuckling, he knew that d'Artagnan didn't understand what he meant. "I've been at sea so long that my crew can get along fine without me. Sometimes I've found myself holding entire conversations with an empty cabin." Picking up the compass, Roussel stared at it before placing it back down. "So I decided I'd been away from Paris long enough."

During their conversation Alex jumped onto Roussel's chair and from their jumped on top of the desk. Finding the perfect spot she plopped down right on top of the maps. Seeing this, Roussel tapped d'Artagnan's shoulder and pointed to the cat. "And that's about all those maps are good for, Alex." Petting her head, he exchanged amused looks with the boy. "Now that I'm here I'm eager to get these old sea legs onto dry land and head for the nearest tavern to lick my wounds."

"Were you hurt, Captain?" D'Artagnan hadn't noted any obvious injuries. Then again not everyone wore their wounds on the outside.

Laughing, Roussel took in the youngster's concerned face. "I've learned so much from my mistakes I'm thinking of making a few more, d'Art, mon garcon."

Not believing a word of it, d'Artagnan stared at him until the captain was the first to turn his head away.

"I was so certain that this time I was onto something big but, alas, it didn't pan out." Picking Alex up, Roussel sat down at his desk with her on his lap. Stroking her back, he watched d'Artagnan. "Fancy taking a walk with me down the streets of gay Paree?"

"I don't mind but I can't go into any of the taverns with you." His papas would have a fit if they ever found out d'Artagnan had done so.

"I wouldn't want the famous inseparables to challenge me to multiple duels," Roussel barked out a laugh. "And that's exactly what would happen if I were to drag you into one." Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he tilted his head studying the young Gascon again. "I could still do so as long as you hang about in the marketplace waiting for me."

"It would give me the opportunity to buy something for my friend Constance."

"Ah, the pretty seamstress you told me about." Getting up Roussel walked around his desk to hand over Alex to the boy. "Did Aramis and the young woman ever…" he waved his hand in the air, not finishing his question.

"Non," d'Artagnan shook his head. "They’ve remained good friends though."

"The man's an idiot." Grabbing his chapeau from a peg on the wall, Roussel led the way back out on deck. “Good women like Constance don’t grow on trees. Not sure what that Musketeer’s waiting for,” he snorted. With a sharp eye on d’Artagnan, Roussel could tell the youngster felt the same way. “Perhaps Aramis needs a rock to fall on top of his head to come to his senses.”

Shrugging in response d’Artagnan kept his own council, not really having anything to add. Perching Alex on his shoulder, he followed the sea captain out the door. When they reached the deck, a squeeze to the back of d’Artagnan’s neck made him twist his head around to catch Captain Roussel grinning.

With a mischievous look in his eyes, Roussel laughed. “I’m going to pester those inseparables of yours about making you my cabin boy now that you’re more than old enough to be one.”

“As much fun as it sounds to be,” d’Artagnan walked down the gangplank behind the captain, “I’m happier on dry land and would miss everyone too much I think.”

Stroking his beard, Roussel pondered the lad’s reply. “It wouldn’t have worked anyway I guess.” He had already given instructions to his crew, so Roussel knew there would be nothing to worry on while he was away. “Athos would have put a blade through my chest,” he chuckled. “If that didn’t happen I’d have expected a musket ball between my eyes courtesy of Aramis.”

“What about papa Porthos?”

“Ah, your gentle giant. Mmmmm.” Rolling his eyes Roussel said, “I’d probably lose count of all the broken bones in my body once Porthos got done with me.” The young Gascon’s hearty laughter rang out loud and clear as they headed into the city.

++++

_Madame Sartre's Chateau - located in Saint-Ouen, not a very long journey from Paris_

Upon arriving at the chateau, the inseparable's dismounted. There were stable hands there to take care of their horses, so they didn't have to worry about them. Athos then went to knock upon the door. A servant answered and, after Athos told the man their business there, the servant left them standing in the entrance. When Madame appeared not only was she apprehensive at having Musketeers on her doorstep but bewildered as well.

"I am Athos of the king's Musketeers." Pointing to his companions he introduced them also. "We were charged with delivering this package to you," Athos handed it over to her. "This goes along with it." Waiting for Madame to take the letter, he stepped back.

Once she opened the package up and quickly read the letter Madame Sartre murmured a foul word under her breath, which stunned all the inseparables into silence. Apparently there was more to her than met the eye. Madame was an older woman of quality and it showed on the outside. What the woman had been before her marriage, bien that wasn't any of the inseparable's business.

"Sometimes I think the queen should be ruling France." Looking at the soldiers, Madame huffed and waved her letter in the air. "This package wasn't supposed to come back to me. It's contents were to have stayed with Their Majestys." The men were all giving her blank looks. "Oh don't just stand there. Come in while I write another letter and re-wrap this box." As the Musketeers did as she asked, Madame hastily took care of the wrapping and wrote another missive handing the letter off to Porthos who was the closest to her. "I better not see this returned again." Shoving the package into Athos' hands, she showed them to the door. "Have a good journey back, gentlemen."

Removing his chapeau, to run his fingers through his hair, Aramis slapped it back upon his curls. "That was interesting."

Scratching his head, Porthos glared at the closed door. “Did any of what just 'appened make any sense?” This should have been a straight forward mission, he thought.

Glancing at the sealed box, once again back in his possession, Athos sighed. Holding out his hand, he waited for Porthos to give him the letter. Tucking the missive into his doublet, Athos put the package in his saddlebag. Mounting Roger, he tugged on the reins. "Paris awaits us, mes freres. Let us not keep her waiting."

Once more back on the path leading them home, Porthos brought up something that he had recently overheard. "Yesterday when I was on palace duty I 'eard the captin' speakin' ta the king about Roussel comin' back ta Paris soon."

"Did they say when?" asked Aramis with curiosity.

"Sounded like it could be any day now." Riding abreast of Athos, Porthos could see a frown beginning to mar the other man's face. "Don't go borrowin' trouble now. Ya 'ear me?"

Glancing from one friend to the other, Athos growled low in his throat. "Let us see how fast we can make it back home."

++++

_Notes:_

_The quote: “Poetry is like fish: if it’s fresh, it’s good; if it’s stale, it’s bad; and if you’re not certain, try it on the cat.”_ – is from Osbert Sitwell. Sir Francis Osbert Sacheverell Sitwell, Fifth Baronet (Dec. 6 1892 – May 4 1969). Was an English writer. He devoted himself to poetry, art criticism and controversial journalism.

 _Quote: "I know right from wong. Wrong is the fun one."_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "I never realized how hilarious I was until I started talking to myself."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _mon fils_ \- my son  
_Corsaire_ \- French for Corsair, a/k/a privateer

Captain Roussel's ship is called _Le Corsaire Rouge a/k/a The Red Corsair._  
It's pretty obvious that he's a Corsair but the reason for the color red is because Roussel is backed by Cardinal Richelieu in my story.  
Corsairs were privateers working for the king of France, attacking the ships of France's enemies. In my story they aren't at war and I know I'm messing with history but it's fiction. LOL! True history says that Richelieu purchased warships and had them built in France. So in this story I'm making Roussel's ship one of them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, after the noon hour - Captain Treville's office_

Intent on reading the missive His Majesty had sent him, Treville was irritated at the interruption when he heard someone rapping hard upon his door. "Go away!" he uncharacteristically shouted at the unknown party bothering him. Some days the Garrison could run without him like a well-oiled machine. Others, like today it seemed, as if the place couldn't go one single day without his help. All morning long there had been a long line of soldiers knocking on his door with some problem or other. Treville would be glad when Athos returned then his lieutenant could shoulder some of the responsibility for him.

++++

Outside the captain's office, three bewildered Musketeers stood staring at one another.

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed. "Did Captain Treville just tell us to leave?"

"'E don't know it's us." Tilting his head, Porthos studied Athos' intense face. "Are we just gonna stand 'ere like statues in the Louvre waitin’ ta be invited inside?"

"Treville did not sound very welcoming." His hand on the doorknob Athos momentarily hesitated upon opening it, considering the captain's rather odd command. Still holding the questionable package Madame Sartre had so unceremoniously thrust into his hands, Athos placed it in the crook of one arm and cautiously opened the door.

++++

Lifting his head up, Treville's scowl would have withered a lesser man. Upon noting it was Athos, his features softened somewhat. "Thought I told you to go away," he mumbled, returning to the letter. When a thump upon his desk caught his attention, Treville stared at the object with unblinking eyes. "Tis not my birthday."

Aramis, who was a step behind Athos, peered around his brother's shoulder and grinned. "Oh tis not a present." Exchanging mutual shrugs with Porthos, he left it up to Athos to explain their rather strange interlude with Madame.

Pushing the package forward with a finger, Athos waited until it was practically under Treville's nose. When the older man sighed and tossed the missive aside, Athos stepped back from the desk.

"Explain this to me." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Treville prayed his man's explanation wouldn't end up being something outlandish. Though, when it came to the inseparables, embellishments were their particular forte.

"Upon delivering the package and letter you assigned us to do earlier," a dry note entered Athos' voice, "Madame Sartre was most displeased."

" _Displeased_?" Leaning back in his chair, Treville closed his eyes. Perhaps this was a bad dream and he was still sleeping peacefully in bed. Cracking one eye open at a time, he still saw his men still standing in front of him. No dream then. "I don't understand."

"Neither do we," Porthos all but snapped, belatedly remembering who he was speaking to, “uh... sir." Merde! He hadn't meant for his words to come out that sharp.

Glaring up at the large Musketeer, Treville held his tongue. Letting his eyes rest on Athos' blank expression, he became thoughtful. "That package's contents were of a sensitive nature. The letter His Majesty sent should have explained that to Madame."

Tapping the unwrapped box, Athos remembered the unusual conversation with Madame Sartre. "She sent it back to you."

Astonished, Treville simply gaped at the soldier. "You're telling me this is the same item you were to have delivered?"

"The lady was most definite that we were to bring it back," Aramis interjected. "Actually her words were to the affect that _she better not see this returned again_."

"Then she all but threw it back at Athos tellin' us ta 'ave a good journey back ta Paris," Porthos added, curious about the mysterious box and what it contained.

"Actually, the entire conversation was most odd." Observing how confused Treville appeared, perhaps what Athos offered next might help clear up a few things for the officer. "She tacked on that it was to have remained with the royals.”

Slapping his forehead, Treville groaned. "Mon Dieu!" Feeling like banging his head on the desk he refrained, knowing it would only result in a terrible headache plus a trip to Doctor Devereaux. Also it wouldn't look good in front of his soldiers.

"If I may add, Captain," lips curled up in a smile Aramis happily said, "Madame also alluded to feeling that Queen Anne should be the one ruling France."

This time Treville did bang his head on the desk and damned the consequences.

The inseparables were left to ponder upon the unusual actions of the older man. Not sure what they were supposed to do now, all of them were anxious to find their son. Hopefully d'Artagnan would not be in the company of a certain Corsaire.

"Sir, are we dismissed?" Listening to Treville talking to himself, Athos couldn't help but be amused. If somehow Cardinal Richelieu was involved in all of this, he doubted His Eminence was going to be pleased either. Listening to the captain mumble something under his breath about taking the king's lute away, it had surprised Athos. Knowing the young monarch's love of the instrument, he had to wonder what that had to do with the mix-up.

"I suppose." How the deuce was he going to explain this mix-up to Richelieu? It wasn't a conversation Treville looked forward to having. Watching his men timidly backing away from him, relieved to be leaving his company of that he was sure, Treville nodded his head for them to depart. Glaring at the package, innocently still sitting on his desk, he knew one thing that the cardinal could do the honors and speak with His Majesty on Madame Sartre's upset.

++++

"That was uncomfortable." Walking side-by-side with his brothers, Porthos kept glancing back over his shoulder at the captain's office. Any minute he expected the officer to come charging out bellowing at them to return.

"Tis up to Treville to take care of the mess," Athos stated. "We have more important matters to worry upon if what Porthos overheard was correct."

"You do realize that it really wasn't Roussel's fault that d'Art hid in the man's cabin that time?" Aramis pointed out. He knew that Athos still bore a grudge against the Corsaire over the matter. If he were honest with himself, at the time Aramis was equally upset over it.

"It was Athos' fault." Blurting it out that way, Porthos cringed inside realizing how that sounded. At the questioning look Porthos received from Aramis, and the closed off features of Athos, he explained. "Remember the runt and Athos squabbled? With d'Art feelin' 'urt 'e upped and decided a pirate's life was for 'im. So 'e ran off to be with Roussel thinkin' Athos wouldn't miss 'im."

"The lad was ten and didn't understand that I was trying to protect him." Thinking how it had all been a huge misunderstanding that escalated out of control, Athos found himself suddenly fascinated by a speck of dirt on his doublet.

"We know our son has a case of hero worship going on where Captain Roussel is concerned." Amused upon that concept, because at one time he and his brothers had been d'Art's heroes, Aramis wiped his face clean of any mirth upon noting Athos' sour expression.

"I wouldn't put it past Roussel to talk d'Art into joining his crew." Feeling ridiculous now that he put it out there, Athos avoided his friend's gazes again.

"Kid's ta young ta be anythin' but a cabin boy." Watching Aramis cover his face with both hands, Porthos realized he just made the situation worse with his careless words and big mouth.

What his brother just said wasn't anything new to Athos. He thought the same thing, if truth were told. "I am going to pay Flea a visit." Facing the other two men, Athos raised a brow. "Are you coming along?"

"Someone better before you end up challenging someone to an illegal duel."Quietly talking to himself Aramis realized that Porthos had heard him, when he felt a mighty slap to his back that nearly sent Aramis sailing without the benefit of water.

With his back turned away from them, Athos' lips curled up slightly. Careful though Aramis had been, he had heard the man's words. Finding great interest in the idea of facing down Roussel, Athos tabled that thought for another time.

++++ 

_Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city..._

Killing time while the captain visited one of the taverns, d'Artagnan found himself browsing the market stalls. Finally he found a gift that suited Constance. Without question she had always been there for him. Being such an exceptional friend d'Artagnan wanted to find something just right. The stall he currently was at sold a lovely array of colorful scarves. Finding one that suited Constance's coloring, d'Artagnan handed over a few coins he had shared in the winnings of earlier.

Tucking the scarf away inside his doublet, d'Artagnan continued wandering from stall to stall making other smaller purchases for his papas. It was while he was doing this that he heard a commotion coming from the nearby tavern that Captain Roussel had entered not that long ago.

Curious about the noise, d’Artagnan drew closer. It was then he noted a group of rowdy men standing outside of La Rose et Couronne. Being over a head taller than all the others, Captain Roussel stood out… smack dab in the middle of what appeared to be a brawl.

Somewhat breathless Roussel managed to dodge the punches flying in the air, extricating himself from the tangled mass of mostly drunken bodies. Making it to d’Artagnan’s side without nary a scratch on his person, Roussel felt lucky. Last time he had engaged in a fistfight he hadn't come out of it unscathed, looking more like a bad painting of mottled colors.

Spying the bottle in the seaman’s hand, d’Artagnan rolled his eyes. “Making up for lost time?” Nothing had changed overmuch with the captain. It was times like this that felt like he was dealing with an overlarge child. The man wasn’t drunk, far from it, but that couldn’t be said of the other men that were still exchanging blows with each other.

“Aye, lad.” Roussel winked at the young Gascon. “Just think, if one glass of wine is good for you just imagine what a whole bottle could do.” Waving his half empty bottle in the air, he took a quick swig of the red liquid.

“I know very well what it could do… do you?” d’Artagnan retorted, humor lacing his voice.

“Ah, d’Art, mon garcon,” placing a hand on his chest, Roussel leaned forward, “you’re starting to sound like Athos.” Frowning at the boy, he poked d’Artagnan in the shoulder. “Don’t dampen my mood.” Spotting a colorful piece of material peeking out of d'Artagnan's doublet, Roussel chuckled. “Got Constance something pretty, eh?”

“I think she’ll like it.” Walking beside the captain, d'Artagnan glanced sideways at his companion. Wanting to know what had happened back at La Rose et Couronne he asked, “What was the fight all about this time?”

“Over a woman is all, lad.” Ruefully shaking his head, Roussel thought back to the lovely tavern wench he had sitting on his lap before all the ruckus broke out. Ruffling the boy’s hair, he laughed deep in his throat as d’Artagnan batted his hand away. “I gather you’re still a might too young to be thinking in that direction yet.”

“I think what’s more important in a woman is the kindness of her heart more than the appeal of her looks.” Noting he caught the captain by surprise with his words, d’Artagnan shyly smiled. “When I’m ready tis what I’ll look for.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were quoting our charming Aramis.” Steering d’Artagnan around some of the market stalls, Roussel stopped at a vendor that was selling fruit. Picking up an apple he bit into it. “But the women he tends to go around with are usually beauties. I doubt kindness of the heart ever enters his head.”

“Are you going to pay Marcel for that apple, Captain?” The young man in charge of the stall was well known to d'Artagnan. He was slightly older than himself and often helped out his family at the markets. Exchanging a look of resignation with Marcel, d’Artagnan became irritated. “If you don’t pay up I will.”

“I was going to, d’Art.” Pretending hurt, as he dug out a few coins, Roussel paid the lad.

Dipping his head at a grinning Marcel, d’Artagnan waved goodbye. Amusing him greatly, he listened to the captain loudly complain that d’Artagnan was becoming more and more like papa Athos.

"Boyo, you should know me better than that." The smirk that crossed d'Artagnan's young face caused Roussel to throw back his head and laugh. "Oui, you do know me." Still holding his bottle of wine, he threw his other arm across the youngster's shoulder. "Sure I'm stubborn, strong willed and a total pain in the ass at times... but I have a heart of gold."

"I will agree with the first part of your assessment, Roussel." A familiar voice drawled.

Both Captain Roussel and d'Artagnan turned around to encounter the inseparables casually leaning against a vendor's stall. Neither of them knew how long the men had been standing there.

"But I disagree with the latter," Athos scoffed. After speaking with Flea he and his brothers discovered that the captain had already docked Le Corsaire Rouge, took their son and headed into the city.

Nudging Porthos in the side, Aramis spoke softly. "Some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts," he crossed his arms observing Athos slowly approach Roussel, "others come along and we want to leave footprints on their face." Another hearty slap to his back from Porthos told Aramis his friend felt the same. Though this time he had been ready for it and wasn't knocked off his feet.

"Athos!" With as much charm as Roussel could summon, he greeted the Musketeer. "I see you haven't lost your wit." Pointing a finger at d'Artagnan he said, "I haven't absconded with the boy as you can see so wipe that scowl from your face."

"Papa," d'Artagnan's doe eyes pleaded with papa Athos to not cause a scene in public.

The appeal in his son's face was hard to miss. For d'Artagnan's sake Athos would try to keep his temper in check. But upon noting the wine bottle in the captain's hand, an unsettled feeling came over him. "Couldn't you finish your drink on the ship?"

Nearly forgetting what he held, Roussel shrugged. "Oh this didn't come off the ship."

"Where'd ya get it then?" Porthos growled low. Knowing very well what the captain's words meant, Porthos just wanted to hear Roussel admit it.

"The tavern over yonder." Ah, so the inseparables thought he dragged their son into the place. "D'Artagnan was over at the markets while I quenched my thirst." With a sly grin to his features, Roussel winked at Athos. "Or at least I tried to."

"Does that mean what I think it does?" Running a finger over his mustache, Aramis mused to himself. Usually when one of them said something like that it meant a fight had broken out.

"I don't know, Aramis, you tell me." Chuckling, Roussel always enjoyed the interrogation he underwent whenever around these three Musketeers.

"Tell me you did not cause trouble already." Hanging his head down, Athos could only slowly shake it back and forth. The captain apparently was trying to set a new record for stirring things up and the man had barely set foot into the city.

"There was a slight disagreement between myself and another man on whose charms the lovely Celeste wanted to enjoy." A huge grin spread clear across Roussel's face.

Covering his eyes with a gloved hand, Athos quietly moaned. "It has begun already." Feeling a light clap to his shoulder, he dropped his hand to peer into the dark eyes of Aramis.

"We will prevail, Athos." Speaking with all the confidence he felt Aramis added, "Never fear because we are Musketeers and have faced tougher odds than a Corsaire captain."

"If all else fails I could always toss 'im over my shoulder and dump 'im back on 'is ship."

"Porthos," Athos smiled, "hold that thought."

Whispering to the boy, Roussel's breath tickled d'Artagan's ear. "That's what I like about your pères... their single mindedness."

Trying to keep a straight face, d'Artagnan simply nodded his head. It would seem that once again he would be the peacekeeper during Captain Roussel's stay. Wanting to steer his papas away from taking pot shots at the sea captain he asked, "How went your delivery?" D'Artagnan's innocent question brought about various reactions. Amusement covered papa Aramis' face, a snort emitted from papa Porthos, and a long suffering sigh escaped from papa Athos. Now d'Artagnan really was most curious about that last assignment.

"Uh, it was a bit confusin', runt." Using his bandana, Porthos wiped the sweat trickling down his brow.

"A huge misunderstanding apparently." His chapeau in his hands Aramis placed it back on his head, tilting it to the side.

"I would rather not talk about it." That said Athos turned smartly on his heels, heading for where he tethered Roger.

"I gather we're supposed to follow him, d'Art." Watching Athos' stiff back, Roussel sighed. Thinking that it would take a miracle to make the inseparables look more favorably on him, especially Athos, he trailed behind the Musketeer.

++++

_Notes:_

The paragraph where Treville's thoughts were about taking King Louis' lute away, refers to the royal's love of the lute. King Louis XIII shared his mother's love of the instrument. One of his first toys was a lute which he learned and played for his mother at the age of three. In 1635, the king composed the music, wrote the libretto and designed the costumes for the "Ballet de la Merlaison." He himself danced in two performances of the ballet the same year at Chantilly and Royaumont.

 _Quote: “If one glass of wine is good for you just imagine what a whole bottle could do.”_ – from Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "Sure I'm stubborn, strong willed and a total pain in the ass at times... but I have a heart of gold."_ \- from Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "Some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts... others come along and we want to leave footprints on their face."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _La Rose et Couronne_ \- "The Rose and Crown". I believe this is actually a name of a tavern in England. But I liked the name and used the French version which I double-checked with FierGascon. I had it right. Ha ha!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FierGascon had wanted to see more about what happened between Athos and d'Artagnan that caused the boy, at age ten, to become a stowaway on Captain Roussel's ship and take to the high seas.  
> So here it is.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, now after one p.m. or thereabouts_

After leaving the Court of Miracles behind, all of them mounted their horses. Having currently no horse of his own, Captain Roussel was seated behind d'Aragnan on Tempest. By mutual agreement, it had seemed best for the sea captain to report to Captain Treville before moving on to anything else.

Since there wasn't enough room for Alex she was perched in front of Aramis. An occasional purr could be heard coming from her, whenever he gently stroked the top of Alex's head. Every so often Aramis chuckled, when he tried to untangle her tail from around his wrist. When the others turned to look his way, he grinned. "What can I say?" he dipped his head, "she's a most charming companion." Listening to the laughter that followed his remark, Aramis began humming softly.

During the rest of their ride, Roussel tried to break through Athos' stubborn reserve. "Look, man, do you honestly mean to hold a grudge against me for something that wasn't even my fault?" Hearing d'Artagnan's long drawn out sigh, he winced. Thinking back to the incident two years ago that caused the strain between them, Roussel had to wonder how it was that he ended up with all the blame.

_FLASHBACK_

_Early morning - the Inseparable's residence_

"I don't care what you say, papa! I'll officially become a Musketeer recruit upon my sixteenth natal day!"

His son's words pierced Athos' heart. Oui, he looked forward to the day d'Artagnan joined the regiment. On the other hand, he also feared for the boy at the same time. Sixteen years of age was too young for the lad to become a soldier. Treville would never agree to it, no matter how exceptional his son was with a blade. Where did d'Artagnan get such an idea stuck in his head? "I am only going to say this one more time," Athos bit out. "Sixteen is too young!"

"Not according to Serge," d'Artagnan fired back, with all the confidence of youth.

" _Serge_?" Athos should have seen that one coming. The former Musketeer was known for spinning large tales of daring do. Being the cook for the regiment now, Serge glorified the days he had served when a much younger man. More than likely the ex-soldier had informed d'Artagnan how Serge had also served under King Henry, during one of France's civil wars when he had only been sixteen. Which no doubt put the idea into d'Artagnan's head in the first place. Twas a good thing that Serge wasn't standing in front of Athos at this moment.

Trying to keep his temper in check Athos placed a hand on the lad's shoulder, becoming hurt when his son pulled away from his touch. "I am trying to keep you safe." Noting the roll of eyes aimed at him, his jaw tightened. "Besides Treville would never accept you until you were at least eighteen." Pointing a finger at the boy Athos shook it. "And we agreed that was when you were to present yourself to the captain."

" _FINE!_ " Shouting at papa hadn't made d'Artagnan feel any better. Stomach churning with various emotions, he swiftly turned away. Walking out of the house he slammed the door behind him loud enough to make papa jump. Though he hadn't seen it, in the mood d'Artagnan was in he wouldn't have cared.

Knowing Captain Roussel was currently in negotiations with Louis and the cardinal at the Royal Palace, d'Artagnan headed for the Court where Le Corsaire Rouge was docked. If papa didn't feel d'Artagnan could serve Louis when he turned sixteen, perhaps Captain Roussel could make use of a cabin boy of ten. Papa Athos probably wouldn't even miss having him underfoot. No doubt the real reason papa's anger escalated was that he felt d'Artagnan would prove not good enough and an embarrassment at such an age.

With single-mindedness d'Artagnan entered the Court, heading straight for Le Corsaire Rouge. Fortunately for him the crew on duty was light. The captain having given most of them leave, made it easier for him to sneak on board to hide in the cabin. Twenty four hours later he was discovered by a stunned and irritated Captain Roussel.

"Athos is going to string me up by my balls!" Roussel snapped at the boy. "Not to mention whatever's left of me will end up dealing with Porthos' and Aramis' wrath." Watching the young Gascon turn white, Roussel huffed his annoyance. Going over to a cabinet he reached inside to bring out a crystal decanter filled with brandy. It was early, by anyone's standards, for a drink but circumstances demanded that Roussel bolster his spirits. Throwing back the amber colored liquid he felt the brandy burn all the way down his throat. "You're running away. No other reason for you to be holed up here."

"Papa Athos told me I couldn't train to become a Musketeer after I turned sixteen."

"Smart man is our Athos." Wagging a finger at the lad, Roussel grimaced. "Don't tell the man I ever said that." Running a hand through his hair, he wondered how he should handle the child's rebellion. "I'd take you as my cabin boy in a heartbeat, d'Art, but not at the expense of you going against the wishes of your pères." Placing his empty glass on top of his desk, Roussel eyed the youth. "I can't see any of them being pleased at me for taking you out to sea." When the cabin door flew open, he twisted his body around to stare at his nervous first mate Vincent. It was then that Roussel could hear shouting coming from topside.

"Sir." Uncertain how to proceed, the matter was taken out of Vincent's hands when three very angry Musketeers burst into the cabin. Rushing right back out the way he came, Vincent couldn't get out of there fast enough. The thought entered his mind about _going down with the ship_ , but Vincent never claimed to be brave when he signed on.

"We were told that you have someone that belongs to us!" Seething inside Athos spotted d'Artagnan right away, noting that his son wouldn't meet his eyes. "And I see our information panned out." Upon entering the cabin, Athos had already unsheathed his sword which was currently resting against Roussel's neck.

Holding up both hands in surrender, Roussel tried to explain. "Do I look crazy to you?" Which wasn't originally what he'd meant to say. "Forget I said that."

"It's not right to steal the runt away like this!" Growling, Porthos slowly approached the captain with fire in his dark eyes.

"My musket's are all primed and ready, Athos," remarked Aramis with a nasty expression on his handsome features.

"Some people need to open their small minds instead of their big mouths." Fed up with the inseparables making him out to be the bad guy in this scenario, Roussel's patience had grown quite thin. Shooting d'Artagnan an angry look, he crooked a finger at the boy. "I'm going to leave you alone with them." With a finger, Roussel carefully pushed Athos' blade away from his throat. "I hope everything can be resolved by the time I come back down."

His heart heavy, d'Artagnan couldn't bear the hurt reflected in papa Athos' blue eyes. "Thought you wouldn't care if I left after our argument." Hanging his head down, long brown hair covering half his face, he missed the anguish written upon papa Athos' face along with twin bewildered looks from the other two men.

Relieved that his son was unhurt, because Porthos had visions of finding the whelp gutted in some dark alley, he slowly approached the kid. "Whatever 'appened between the two of ya, runt," pressing his forehead against the whelp's, Porthos gripped d'Artagnan's shoulders hard, "ya gotta know we went nuts lookin' for ya when there had been no sign of ya anywhere yesterday."

"I've counted five grey hairs this morn." Frowning as he plucked at his locks, Aramis noted his words teased a smile from d'Artagnan. When Porthos released the lad Aramis gave the youngster a loving hug, dropping a quick kiss on his son's cheek.

"Aside from losing our minds and Aramis' grey hairs," Athos dryly intoned, "my heart and that of my brothers would be forever broken if you left us."

A huge lump formed in d'Artagnan's throat causing him to croak out the captain's innocence. "Captain Roussel had no idea I stowed away. It was as much a surprise to him this morn as it was for all of you to find me missing." Lips trembling, tears pooled in d'Artagnan's eyes.

His heart breaking in pieces from the pain he could read on the child's face, Athos found his feet automatically taking him to the boy's side. Wrapping his arms around d'Artagnan, his chin rested on top of his son's head. Feeling the lad reciprocating the hold, Athos placed a kiss on d'Artagnan's brow. "I apologize for the sharpness of my words that caused all of this."

Sniffling, d'Artagnan swiped his arm across his nose. "I too spoke out of turn and I'm sorry for running off the way I did."

Observing the two of them making amends Aramis tipped his chapeau at a jaunty angle, crossed his arms and with pursed lips shot Porthos an amused look. "God instructs the heart, not by ideas but by pains and contradictions."

Whispering back, Porthos nudged his friend's side. "Get that from one of your fancy books, Mis?" All he received in turn was a roll of dark eyes and a raised brow. Stepping back away from Aramis, Porthos threw his arms out wide. "What's everyone think about all of us gettin' off this boat and get on home?"

" _Ship_ , Porthos, not _boat_!" Striding back inside, hands on hips, Roussel took in the picture of Athos and d'Artagnan clinging to each other. "Now if everyone is so inclined to depart," he cleared his throat, "my _ship_..." Roussel glared at Porthos' cheery expression, even knowing the dark-skinned Musketeer was pulling his leg, "I have business at the palace."

"We've outstayed our welcome I think." The last to follow everyone topside, Aramis leaned over the starboard to gaze into the murky depths of the water. "I don't understand the pull of the sea. I prefer dry land."

Close behind the Musketeer, Roussel walked down the gangplank laughing at Aramis' words. "I wouldn't have expected anything less from one of King Louis' finest."

_END FLASHBACK_

"Admit it, Athos, I was the innocent party." Observing the struggle that appeared to be going on within the older Musketeer's mind, Roussel honestly didn't think Athos would relent.

Glancing over his shoulder at the sea captain, Athos' lips tightened fractionally while he gripped Roger's reins until his knuckles turned white. "All right. It was not your fault," he grudgingly responded, shoulders stiff with his words.

"Now that wasn't so hard to say was it, mon ami?" Chuckling, Roussel's amusement dimmed at the glare he received in turn from the lieutenant.

"Do not push your luck." Urging Roger further ahead of the group, Athos heard the captain's roar of laughter.

++++

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

"Ah, tis good to see you!" Coming from around his desk Treville shook Captain Roussel's hand. "How were your travels?"

"They went poorly this time around, Treville."

"Perhaps your fortunes could change after an audience with His Majesty." Observing Roussel's features brighten at his words, Treville went to retrieve his cloak and chapeau. "Why don't we find out, eh?"

"Are we to come along as well, Captain?" Now that they had d'Artagnan back with them, Athos was anxious to return home.

"Oui." Pulling a face, Treville had to tell his men what he hadn't accomplished yet. "I'm afraid I've been remiss in not informing the king on what happened with that delivery to Madame Sartre." Pointedly staring at the inseparables he added, "I need you three as back-up."

"I do not envy you the chore." Meaning every word, Athos hoped their young monarch was in a receptive mood. Realizing that Treville more than likely had to speak with Cardinal Richelieu upon the matter as well, Athos was glad it wasn't up to him.

"You gents will have to explain to His Majesty what transpired at Madame's." Heading out the door first, Treville missed what Roussel was saying to Porthos.

"I was hoping to stop at Madame Angels after meeting with Treville." Frowning, Roussel realized that he'd have to put visiting the popular establishment on hold for the moment.

"It'll still be there once your audience is over." Grinning at the devilish look that entered the sea captain's eyes, Porthos slapped Roussel's back. "I just may join you."

When they reached the bottom of the steps Rene had brought another horse over for Captain Roussel to ride. Once mounted, the group rode in the direction of the Royal Palace.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "Some people need to open their small minds instead of their big mouths." -_ from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "God instructs the heart, not by ideas but by pains and contradictions."_ from Jean Pierre de Caussade (7 March 1675 – 8 December 1751). He was a French Jesuit priest and writer known for the work ascribed to him, Abandonment to Divine Providence, and his work with Nuns of the Visitation in Nancy, France.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter you'll find that I'm mixing in another episode from the show. Of course with my own twists and turns.  
> Also for those curious, I've let it be known what was in that mysterious package but not the reason behind it. I know, I'm bad. LOL!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, close to two p.m. - Royal Palace, Throne Room_

While King Louis spoke with Captain Roussel, Treville found himself in a serious discussion with the cardinal over the mix-up with Madame Sartre. Both men were keeping their voices low enough not to be overheard.

"You mean to stand there and tell me His Majesty was supposed to have kept it?" Having heard from Treville's own lips and verified by the inseparables Richelieu thought the entire sequence of events sounded like a comedy of errors, with the joke being on them. "How could Louis have bungled things so badly in regards to Madame's instructions?"

Listening to the young monarch's boisterous laughter, mingling with that of Roussel's filling the room, Treville sighed. "Is it so unbelievable to you, Cardinal, that Louis did so?"

His arms behind his back, Richlelieu paused to consider Treville's question. He too heard the gay laughter coming from the young king and sea captain. Then, with a casual shrug of his shoulders, Richelieu stared at the Musketeer captain. "Twas a good thing the fate of a campaign didn't hang in the balance on what happened."

"Tis one way of looking at it. Though not mine," Treville replied. "According to my men Madame Sartre was most upset."

"If I were in her shoes," casting his eyes around to make sure there wasn't anyone near them, Richelieu continued, "I would have been as well. After all that necklace she managed to pilfer for us may have saved the monarchy's diplomatic relations with the Swiss." Lowering his voice even further he added, "not to mention the embarrassment it would have created for us all."

"Especially for Queen Anne." Nodding his head, agreeing with the cardinal for once, Treville was glad that Madame Sartre had the good sense to hand it back over to Athos.

It was then that Captain Roussel approached both Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville. He appeared well satisfied, grinning from ear to ear.

"It would seem that the king's made you a very happy man." Exchanging a wry look with Richelieu, Treville knew the cardinal understood as did he what Louis had discussed with the sea captain.

"I shall enjoy my latest venture to China. It's been some time since I've found myself over there bringing back goods to France."

"It should prove to be a profitable one for you as well as for our country." Noting the king signaling to him, Richelieu politely excused himself leaving Roussel alone with Treville.

Shortly both men were joined by the inseparables. Thus followed a lengthy discussion on Captain Roussel's coming business for King Louis.

In the meantime, a very bored d'Artagnan decided to leave the throne room with Alex following at his heels. He had hardly stepped a foot outside the doors when a glad cry rang out shouting out his name. Having recognized that voice, d'Artagnan turned around to note young Louis racing toward him.

Skidding to a halt, Louis was very surprised to see d'Artagnan standing there. Outside of the school room, they haven't been able to see one another as part of their ongoing punishment. So Louis was quite excited to see his best friend so soon. "What are you doing here, d'Art?"

After spending a few minutes of explanation d'Artagnan figured that it wouldn't hurt for them to go outside, with Alex being cuddled in Louis’ arms. He made sure that the Red Guards outside the palace knew where they would be. Still d’Artagnan wasn’t overly worried because the grounds were heavily protected and they could be clearly seen by several guardsmen not that far away. Once both of them settled under their favorite spot beneath a huge weeping willow tree, d’Artagnan noted Louis released Alex to let her go exploring.

What the two boys hadn't seen were several unkept looking individuals sneaking up on the Red Guards, easily managing to overpower them. While d'Artagnan and Louis chattered away, they didn't know the danger coming at them. It wasn't until a sharp poignard threatened to slice his throat, and that of young Louis, that d'Artagnan noted the impossible position they were in.

Showing a mouthful of blackened teeth, Renard spat close to the older boy's ear. "You'll be nice and quiet like or else your petit companion won't be long for this world."

Obeying the canaille, d'Artagnan let himself be dragged away. Observing the other man doing the same with Louis, he talked himself out of trying to be hero for the day. Wondering how these men were capable of entering the royal grounds without being caught, d’Artagnan figured it was rather a moot point. For captured they both were and for purposes unknown as yet. He could only pray they would be found, before anything untoward happened to either of them.

++++

_Back inside the Throne Room_

"Singing to make my woes go away?" Studying Aramis, who had made that suggestion when Roussel had talked about his last venture turning out to be a bust, he shook a finger at the Musketeer. "I won't tell you I haven't done so. Because I have. When I'm sad I sing. Then I realize my voice is worse than my problems." Chuckling at the mere thought of attempting to warble again he said, "Besides tis not worth losing my crew most of whom had threatened to mutiny if I do so anymore."

"Bah! They are nothing but Philistines," Aramis announced. A lover of the arts he couldn't understand people who weren't.

"I hate to interrupt such an interesting topic," Athos drawled. "But has anyone seen d'Artagnan?" At his question, all of them looked about the room seeing nothing of the young Gascon lad.

"'Kid could 'ave gone outside." At his suggestion Porthos was about to go and check when several Red Guards came staggering inside the room.

Aramis and Athos immediately approached them. Noting that neither man was steady on their feet, they guided them over to several empty chairs.

"What has taken place?" Athos asked, an unsettled feeling began to seep into his bones. Especially not knowing his son's whereabouts.

"We were knocked out by a blow to our heads." Rubbing the back of his, Cyprien winced finding the tender spot.

"Merde! Tis sore," loudly complained Ignace, until Cardinal Richelieu approached them.

"Explain yourselves!" Richelieu demanded upon noting their ruffled appearance. Listening to them, his eyes darkened with fury. "You say that the Dauphin and d’Art were within your sights and now they've both disappeared!" Whirling around he snapped his fingers for attention. "I want every man available to cover every inch of the palace grounds outside and find those two boys!"

Silence descended the throne room, King Louis' knees nearly buckled underneath him. It was a good thing Anne wasn't here at present. Considering what nearly happened when they had that assassin in their midst, it was going to be bad enough later if their child wasn't found right away. With Captain Treville at his side, King Louis gave the officer orders to have every Musketeer available involved in the search.

As pandemonium broke out, Athos swore violently. “Nom de Dieu! Lightning does strike twice!” Rushing past other guards that were trying to get through the door, he quickly glanced over his shoulder at his brothers both of whom had suddenly gone pale at the news. When a heavy hand landed on Athos’ shoulder, he paused and noted Roussel’s grave face.

“I’m tagging along. D’Art means just as much to me as he does to you three,” Roussel gruffly voiced. “Aside from all that I’d look the hero in King Louis’ eyes if I were the one to rescue the lads.” The latter part of his remark earned him a deepening scowl from Athos. Yet the Musketeer nodded his head for Roussel to join the search.

Crossing himself, Aramis closed his eyes murmuring a quick prayer for the children. “Mere de Dieu, keep them safe.” Following behind Porthos’ massive bulk, he allowed himself to think upon what he would do to the people responsible for the youngster’s disappearance.

Wanting to rip into the low-life thugs that had the audacity to take the kids right from under their noses, Porthos kept slamming his fist into his palm.

Canvasing the area, along with their fellow brethren and Red Guards, the inseparables sadly came up empty.

++++

_Late in the afternoon now - a few hours away from Paris_

In a low lying valley, hidden away from many a curious eye, the rocky terrain held a myriad of caves. They proved an ideal place for where the Lemaitre brothers held their unlucky captives.

Having joined his brother Sebastian to look over their latest additions, Bruno smiled with pleasure. Especially noting the two boys that had been recently delivered into their hands. Normally Gus, who ran a tavern back in Paris, supplied them with adult males old enough to serve as galley slaves on the Spanish ships they bartered with. But sometimes they had a call for much younger ones to fill in the role of cabin boys for the Spaniards. The two children presently glaring at Bruno would do very nicely.

“D’Art.” Clutching his friend’s arm Louis tried to be brave, though his sleight frame was trembling with fear. “What do you think will happen to us?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He knew Louis didn’t like liars, and d’Artagnan always tried to be truthful with his younger friend. “I hadn’t heard any of the soldiers speak upon people being taken.” But a gut feeling was screaming at d’Artagnan that things were going to go worse for them from here on out.

Walking over to where his brother was greedily going through any spoils that had been plucked from their kidnapped victims, Bruno placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Where did your men find the two lads over there?”

“They took a great chance I’ll say that for them,” Sebastian grunted. “Told me they were close to the Royal Palace and decided to take a look see.” Making a face at the meager amount in front of him, Sebastian pushed the pile away. “Saw those two boys outside figuring they belonged to His Majesty's retainers. They took out the guards watching them and voila!” he grinned devilishly. “Now they’re ours.”

“I think you’ll get a goodly sum for them.” Stepping back from his brother Bruno looked out the cave's entrance. “I’m heading back to the city. A blacksmithy’s business doesn’t run by itself.” His words earned a cackle of rough laughter from Sebastian.

++++

Observing the one man leaving, d’Artagnan squirmed beside Louis. Both of them were shackled to a post embedded deep into the ground, making it hard for them to move. “Whatever you do don’t let them know you’re the Dauphin,” he whispered.

“Why not? I’ve been thinking of doing so,” Louis retorted. “Perhaps they’ll ask papa for a ransom. This way they’ll let me go when tis paid and I’ll demand your release as well.”

His friend’s naiveté was telling. D’Artagnan didn’t want to spell it out for Louis but needs must. “If they discover who you truly are your life would be forfeit,” he hissed in in the other boy’s ear. “Once your identity is known our kidnappers would be fearing for their lives.” Grimacing, as d’Artagnan pulled on the metal cuff encircling his wrist, he leaned as close to Louis as he could get. “They know losing their heads would be the price to pay for taking you,” he added. “Given that option what do you think they’d do to you and to me?”

Biting his lip, trying to process all that d’Artagnan had told him, Louis nodded his head that he understood his friend.

“For now let’s pray that our corps d'élite of Musketeers and Red Guard can locate us.” If he had been able to, d’Artagnan would have crossed his fingers.

++++

_Royal Palace_

Wandering the halls, Milady couldn't help but note all the Red Guards rushing past her. Something was up and she needed to know what it was. Finding herself outside of the throne room, Milady overheard a partial conversation between King Louis and the Captain of the Musketeers. From what she garnered the Dauphin and d'Artagnan were missing, possibly stolen away.

This could be the making of her, if Milady played her cards right. Rescuing Their Majesty's precious child, she would be showered with jewels of her choice along with a hefty sum of money into the bargain. Of course it was of the utmost import to help young d'Artagnan as well. She had grown rather fond of the boy, in her own way. First things first though, glancing at her gown Milady frowned. A change of clothes was in order if she were to mingle with the type of vermin she needed to, if Milady hoped to discover the ones behind the kidnapping.

++++

_Hitting the streets of Paris_

Hours of searching and the inseparables had hit a brick wall with their inquiries, coming to a dead end. Also they were beginning to lose the light of day, making it hard to continue on. It was just when they were trying to decide whether to head back to the Garrison, when they hit upon a lead from one of Porthos' snitches. It is how they now found themselves standing in front of one of the busier taverns in Paris run by a man that went by the name of Gus. Of course they had to end up putting pressure on the man to give up what little he knew. Seemed Gus knew a lot more than the inseparables thought. Spilling that there was an active kidnapping ring in the area. As Gus filled them in, the inseparable's hearts filled with dread. Not only for their son but for the future of France.

++++

_Notes:_

As you've no doubt guessed I'm using the plot from An Ordinary Man. At certain points I may eventually use a little bit of dialog from that episode working it into my story.

 _Nom de Dieu!_ – God damn it!  
_Mere de Dieu_ – Mother of God  
_Naiveté_ – Naïve  
_Corps d'élite_ – Elite corps

 _Quote: "When I'm sad I sing. Then I realize my voice is worse than my problems."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same time as last chapter but the inseparables have just left the tavern run by Gus_

_Bruno Lemaitre’s Blacksmith shop_

“Seen your brother Sebastian lately?’ His question resulted in the reply Athos had expected from the blacksmith.

“He’s in the Americas." Continuing on with his work, Bruno ignored the three men.

“’E never made it there.” Towering over Bruno, Porthos’ frame would have intimidated most people. He hoped it worked on Lemaitre as well.

“Used to be your brother snatched drunks and vagrants off the streets.” Stepping into Bruno’s space, Athos’ blue eyes darkened to nearly the color of midnight as he suppressed his burning rage. "Now it would appear he is adding children to his list.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” snapped Bruno, backing away from the fury he read in the Musketeer’s eyes.

Holding up some shackles and chains Aramis rattled them, a stony look on his handsome face. “Exactly what kind of horses wear these?”

It was then that Bruno attempted to cut and run but with three angry soldiers barring his way he didn’t get far. Ending up in a short fight Bruno came up the worse for it.

++++

_Early evening, Garrison – Captain Treville’s office_

“We’ve exhausted our manpower.” Standing up he slammed his fist down hard on his desk making everything rattle, Treville’s frustration showed but he didn't care. “We have yet to discover where they took the Dauphin and d’Art.”

“There may be a possible lead. Not a comforting one but I am hopeful.” Waiting for Treville to calm himself enough to listen to him, Athos informed the officer of what they had learned from Bruno.

“Mon Dieu!” Steadying himself Treville gripped the back of his chair, lest he collapse from the shock of it. “The future king of France serving as a common cabin boy on a Spanish ship!” His head hanging down, Treville felt his years of service weighing heavily upon his shoulders.

“Sebastian likes to take his captives to the border on foot, working their way to the docks.” Trying to keep the worry out of his voice, Athos waited to see what Treville's thoughts on it were.

“Do you believe that?” Staring hard at his lieutenant, Treville trusted and relied upon Athos’ judgment. The younger man had a cool and logical mind which is what Treville had come to rely on through the years.

“He would be insane to smuggle men in irons all the way across France,” Athos retorted.

“If they’re not walking all the way how else could he get them to Spain?” Folding his arms, trying to keep it together, Treville let out a long, tired breath.

“I think tis time to see a man about some maps.” With a nod at the captain, Athos looked back at his friends as they followed him out the door.

++++

Barging into the office, Athos approached an older man bent over some maps. “We need a list of all Spanish vessels docked at French ports.”

“I need an official request to release that information,” snapped Bercegeay.

“This is the king’s business,” Porthos all but growled.

An air of haughtiness descended over Bercegeay. “Then I need to see your orders signed by the king,” he said in a condescending tone, as one would speak to a child. “Rules apply in all circumstances.”

“ _Rules_ ,” Porthos scoffed, “just get in my way.”

Getting nowhere fast with this one, Aramis picked up a map waving it at the older man. “Help us or we’ll help ourselves.”

++++

After leaving the office, and a disgruntled Monsieur Bercegeay behind, the inseparables had paid the harbor master a visit. It was late and the man wasn't happy to have his sleep interrupted. The coins that crossed the harbor master's palm were enough though to make up for the disruption. Now the inseparables had a decision to make.

“Spanish ship leaves at high tide in the afternoon on the morrow.” Heart beating nearly out of his chest, in anxiety for the missing children, Aramis tried to control his emotions. Now was not the time to fall apart.

“I’m not one for waitin’ around ta see if’n Lemaitre gets ‘is captives ta the ship on time.” Being a man of action, Porthos felt what time they had left was slipping away from them.

“Then we will keep searching and track Lemaitre down before he breaks camp.” Leading the way to their horses, Athos mounted Roger.

++++

_Lemaitre’s camp_

Through Milady’s shady contacts she had found out that an old acquaintance of hers was the one who had kidnapped the two boys. It had been years since she had last seen and worked with Sebastian. Back then they had simply been involved in common thievery. Seems like the man’s upped his game to a more lucrative business dealing with Spain. Her distaste for Sebastian’s profitable enterprise left a bad taste in Milady’s mouth.

Those contacts proved valuable to her as they were able to give Milady directions to where Sebastian was holed up. Guiding her horse over the rocky terrain, she rode straight into the well-guarded camp. Instantly she faced several men with weapons trained on her. Pulling on the reins of her mount, Milady’s horse came to a halt. “Oh do put away those pistols. I’m no threat to you.”

A rough voice spoke out. “Don’t you believe her, men. Milady’s more dangerous than the lot of you put together.” Mockingly bowing before her, Sebastian reached up to help her dismount. “What brings you here? Short on cash?”

“Mmmmm.” Humming, she nodded her head. “I’ve nearly run out of funds and much to my surprise discovered you were in the area.”

Steering Milady in the direction toward one of the caves, Sebastian’s mind began working on how best he could use her talents. In the past, they had worked well together.

Walking inside the entrance, Milady paused as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Turning to Sebastian she rolled her eyes. “Can’t say I like your new accommodations.” His shout of laughter echoed around her.

“We won’t be here for much longer. In fact we’ll be making our move quite soon.” Filling his quota for the Spaniards, Sebastian couldn’t wait to get the money into his hands and be out of Paris.

“Was my information correct that you’re now involved in a kidnapping ring this time?”

“The Spanish pay very well,” he chuckled. “Much better than when you and I were merely picking pockets.”

“We did more than just _pick pockets_ , Sebastian, if memory serves.” A sly smile crossed her face.

“I suppose we did but it was a hand to mouth existence at best. Not one that I care to repeat.” He was about to discuss their collaboration, when one of his men came inside telling Sebastian that Bruno had come to see him.

“Oh don’t worry about me.” Waving a hand airily, Milady grinned. “I’ll roam around a bit. You have enough torches lit that I can make my way about.”

“Just be careful,” Sebastian warned. “I wouldn’t want you to have an accident and break that pretty neck of yours.”

“How comforting.” Listening to his chuckles fading away, the further he was from the cave, Milady set about investigating where the Dauphin and d’Artagnan could be hidden.

++++

_Searching in the wrong area..._

While the inseparables were following their best lead, Treville had set out again on a different one with the sea captain. For the past half an hour it had felt like they had been going in circles. “Are we lost, Roussel?” Irritated with the other man, who had told Treville that one of his crew had heard where the boys could be, his patience had thinned considerably.

Removing his chapeau, scratching at his head, Roussel stared straight ahead of him. “I chose the road less travelled… now I don’t know where the hell I am!” Hearing Alex mewling from within his saddlebag he sighed, reached in to pull her out, then placed the cat in front of him. “I should have used a compass perhaps then I’d know where we’re at.” Tickling Alex under her chin, he grinned. “What say you to that, Alex?” The cat simply purred her pleasure. No doubt happy to be out of his saddlebag.

“Why in heaven’s name did you bring her along?” Ready to pull out what little hair he had left on his head, Treville glared at Roussel’s back.

“Thought she might help us find d’Art which would then lead us to the Dauphin as well.”

“I believe I’ve heard everything now.” Shouting to the company of Musketeers he had brought with him, Treville ordered them all to turn back around. “Sometimes, Roussel, I think you have a screw loose.”

“Ha!” crowed Roussel. “Did I tell you? Sanity isn’t my strong point.”

“As if I didn't already know that.” Muttering about insane sea captains, Treville rode past his men to take the lead.

++++

_Back at Lemaitre's camp_

"What's wrong, brother?" Signs that the other man had been roughed up were very evident on Bruno's face. Frowning at the bruises marring his brother's features, Sebastian wondered what brought it about.

"I was paid a visit by three Musketeers. Directly after I went to speak with Gus." Touching his face, Bruno winced from the pain. "He was very angry with me even though I told him those three soldiers learned nothing from me."

"So you were in a fight with not only the king's men but Gus as well?" Not the news Sebastian wanted or needed to hear. As his brother's eyes wouldn't meet his own, he realized Bruno was holding something back. "I can still tell when you're lying to me." Unclenching his fists Sebastian felt like pummeling Bruno, thus finishing the job the Musketeers and Gus started.

"They were all beating on me," Bruno pitifully whined. "What was I to do?"

" _WHAT_..." Lowering his voice, so other ears wouldn't listen in, Sebastian hissed, "What did you tell the Musketeers?"

"That you were back in the city plying your old trade but to the Spanish this time." Backing away from the anger growing on Sebastian's face, Bruno held up both hands in front of him in hopes of warding off blows that surely would come his way. "I swear that's all I told them."

"Good thing I'm moving my merchandise soon." Shaking a fist at his brother, Sebastian then shoved Bruno away. "Get back to your business and try to act like everything's normal."

"I will, Sebastian." As Bruno went to fetch his horse, Sebastian's figure blended into the descending darkness.

++++

"D'Art," leaning his head on the older boy's shoulder, Louis tried to keep his eyes open, "think we'll be found soon?"

With his own head resting on top of Louis', d'Artagnan wished for a better answer than the one he was about to give. "Remember my papas won't rest until they discover where we are. I'm sure Captain Treville won't leave a stone unturned in their hunt to find us."

"I'm tired." Yawning, Louis' eyes closed.

"So am I." Wishing he knew what was going to be done with them, d'Artagnan tried to stay awake. Just when his eyelids lost the battle to stay up, he heard a noise from outside the cave they presently were in.

++++

It was terribly easy for Milady to slip in and out of the caves, in search of the boys. She'd love to tell Sebastian that his security measures were sadly lacking but Milady would keep that to herself, as it benefited her. This time she hit pay dirt, when stepping inside this one.

"Milady?" Not believing what was in front of him, d'Artagnan blinked his eyes open several times. Perhaps he was dreaming. Peering up at Milady's figure, seeing she was still there in the flesh, meant that d'Artagnan's weary mind hadn't been playing tricks on him.

Placing a finger against her lips, Milady shooshed the lad. Dangling a key from her hand, she knelt down beside d'Artagnan. When she had been talking with Sebastian, the fool hadn't even realized Milady had lifted a set of keys from his belt. Fitting one of them into the lock on the metal cuffs, of both boys, she watched them fall off d'Artagnan and then the Dauphin.

Nudging Louis awake d'Artagnan placed a hand over his friend's mouth, to stifle any exclamation the younger one would make. Noting Louis' eyes settle on Milady, d'Artagnan let his hand fall away.

"I've seen you around the palace," Louis whispered.

"I've been told I'm quite unforgettable," she teased. Then swatted the young Gascon gently when the older boy said something most uncomplimentary. "Remember I'm the one pulling off this rescue, d'Artagnan."

"We're not out of the woods yet." Helping Louis to his feet, d'Artagnan made the necessary introductions. "This is Milady." Observing his best friend bow low before her, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

"And I already know that you're the Dauphin." Smiling at the petit's excellent manners, Milady glanced at d'Artagnan. "You could learn a thing or two from him." Did that young man just stick his tongue out at her? Of all the brass.

"Mademoiselle, you may call me Louis and shall forever have my gratitude."

"Remember you said that." Ushering the youngsters out of the cave, quickly and quietly as possible, Milady led the way to her horse.

"There's only one," d'Artagnan hissed. Being as dark as it was, he couldn't see if there were any other horses nearby.

"No time to spend locating another." Mounting her horse she waited for d'Artagnan to lift Louis up in front of her. "D'Artagnan, you can sit behind me. My horse is strong enough to carry all of us. Louis, here weighs next to nothing." Once the young Gascon settled behind Milady, his hands at her waist, she couldn't wait to leave this place.

Before the horse could even lift one hoof, the sounds of pistols cocking could be heard around them. Her back stiffening at the sound of Sebastian's voice, Milady tried to think upon how she could talk herself out of this situation.

"Taking something that doesn't belong to you, Milady, is not the way to start our working relationship again."

"When I found the two lads here I thought they were rather a tad too young for what you had in mind." An ugly scowl covered Sebastian's face at her comment.

"So you took it upon yourself to be their saviour," he scoffed, realizing he was missing something important here but not knowing what. Reaching up Sebastian plucked the younger boy from off Milady's horse. When the child lashed out at him, kicking with his feet, Sebastian raised a hand to strike the petit. However his hand never made contact with the youth's face, because Sebastian was stunned at the lad's reaction.

" _YOU WOULD DARE RAISE A HAND TO ME?_ " Louis shouted at the top of his lungs.

Oh this wouldn't end well, d'Artagnan cringed inwardly at his friend's words. Praying that Louis would just plain shut up and not say anything further to put them all in jeopardy, but knowing the younger boy wouldn't, d'Artagnan felt the truth would not set Louis free.

" _I COMMAND YOU TO PUT ME DOWN... NOW!_ " Demanding his kidnapper obey him, Louis squirmed in the man's grasp.

Little did the child know how imperious he sounded. Exactly like the pampered king of France who was miles away from here. Wishing she could reach for her own pistol, hidden within the folds of her skirt, Milady waited until the time was right to act.

Something about this boy bothered him, sending chills up and down Sebastian's spine. Staring into the child's dark gaze he asked, "Who... are... you?"

" _DON'T!_ " shouted d'Artagnan. " _DON'T DO IT!_ "

Bracing himself, for Sebastian knew not what was going to be imparted, he shook the youngster yelling, " _TELL ME!_ "

" _I AM THE DAUPHIN!_ "

Sliding off the horse's back d'Artagnan grabbed Louis out of the older man's hands. Protectively covering his young friend with his own body, he stood firm. "You're not to lay a hand on him again!"

"Merde!" When Sebastian found those two imbeciles that took these boys they would suffer greatly, if he didn't kill them first.

"Let me take them away from here, Sebastian," Milady implored. She knew exactly what thoughts flitted through his mind. "You cause either one of them an injury you'll never make it out of France alive."

"If the petit's His Majesty's brat," Sebastian spat, pointing a finger at the older boy, "who are you?"

"You really don't want to know." Wishing he had a sword to run this canaille through, d'Artagnan didn't budge from where he stood.

"Humor me." Snarling out his anger, Sebastian glanced at Milady still seated on her horse.

"My name's d'Artagnan and I am the son of Athos, Aramis and Porthos of the king's Musketeers."

"My night's just getting better and better." Cocking his head to the side, Sebastian studied the two boys. "The Dauphin and the son of the inseparables." He knew what that meant. There would be Musketeers and Red Guards breathing down his neck shortly, and Sebastian may not make it to the port where the Spanish ship awaited their cargo.

"Sebastian, think this through before you do something rash." Jumping down from her mount Milady cautiously approached her former partner. "Hurt them and you might as well slit your own throat."

"What's the difference?" Not knowing what to do, Sebastian fingered his pistol he had pulled from his belt. "Even if I release them if I'm later caught I'll hang or worse."

"If you let them go unharmed imprisonment in the Chatelet would be better than the alternative, if you're captured that is." Still unsure whether her words were having any affect on him, she pleaded. "Come on, Sebastian, see reason." When Milady used to work with him, he lived by his wits. He was smart and shrewd in his business dealings. Right now Sebastian probably felt cornered realizing who his men had taken and the fate that awaited him.

Before Sebastian could respond to her words, musket fire came from nearby the entrance to the valley. He could hear his men clashing swords against the invaders. Seems like things had been taken out of his hands already. So with a last look at Milady, and the children, he went in search of a horse to make a getaway. His men could fend for themselves.

Before Milady could take even one step toward d'Artagnan and the young Dauphin, the sound of a musket being primed caught her attention. When she turned around, Milady refrained from snickering. "Bonsoir, mon cher."

Doing a double take, Athos was stunned to see who he had a weapon trained on. "Anne?"

"In the flesh, so to speak." Covering her mouth with a hand, Milady tried to hide her mirth.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: “I chose the road less travelled… now I don’t know where the hell I am!”_ from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “Did I tell you? Sanity isn’t my strong point.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Bonsoir, mon cher_ \- Good evening, my dear.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same night, same place - Lemaitre's camp... Athos gets a shock_

“ _Anne?_ ”

“Olivier.”

Scowling he snapped, “I prefer to be called _Athos_.” Stunned didn’t even begin to cover how he was feeling upon his ex-wife’s appearance. She had been the very last person Athos expected to find here.

“Isn’t that a mountain in Greece?” Pulling the tiger’s tail probably wasn’t the smartest move to make, after all this time. Inwardly Milady gleefully observed his blue eyes flash with irritation.

Drawing closer to them, Athos' eyes quickly skimmed over the boy's. “Any injuries I should be made aware of?” At twin negative nods, he was greatly relieved. Heaven alone knew what would have happened if Athos had to report back to the king that the Dauphin had suffered a wound or worse.

“Milady rescued us!” Proudly making it known to all and sundry, Louis glanced up at her. She was still sitting upon her horse, gazing back down at him with a smile upon her face.

D’Artagnan didn’t realize papa’s eyebrows could reach that high.

“Is that true, d’Art?” Not believing for one second that Anne had changed, Athos knew the lad would always be truthful with him.

“Oui, papa, and at much risk to her person.” He too looked upon Milady who appeared to find all of this rather amusing, judging by the way she chuckled.

“Going to finish what you started with me all those years ago, Olivier?" Covering her mouth with a hand she said, "Forgive me. I meant to say _Athos_.” Fingering her choker, Milady inclined her head. “If you are... do make a better job of it than last time.”

Confused brown eyes bounced back and forth between papa and Milady, as if he were watching a tennis match. It sounded like they knew each other. But papa Athos never once mentioned this woman to any of them. Now d'Artagnan was wishing he had told his papas about having met Milady before.

"Tis not the place nor the time to re-hash our old history." Biting his words out, Athos became distracted from the sounds of approaching riders.

++++

Having finally located the camp, no thanks to Captain Roussel, Treville had his Musketeers fan out and go after everyone associated with Lemaitre.

Spotting a man about to mount a horse, Roussel rode straight toward him. Dismounting quickly he barked out, "Hold there! Unless you want a taste of my blade!" Threatening the canaille with his sword, Roussel almost wished his opposition would put up a fight. He was in that kind of mood.

Sebastian noted the size of his opponent and balked. The man was a giant. Reaching for his pistol he dropped it when out of nowhere a wild animal attacked him, hissing and spitting out its anger. Feeling the beast scratching at his face, Sebastian tried to shake it off.

Laughing at the sight of Alex trying to re-arrange the batard's facial features, Roussel looked around for Treville. The captain wouldn't believe what Alex did unless the man saw it with his own eyes.

Blood slowly seeped from the claw marks that had raked down his flesh. Dark as it was Sebastian couldn't make out what type of creature had gone at him. Upon hearing the big man's loud laughter, he frowned.

"Bested by a mere cat." Yanking the other man's arms behind his back, Roussel tied him up with some rope he had in his saddlebag. "My crew surely will enjoy this tale."

Spotting the feral feline at his feet, nonplussed, Sebastian could only stupidly stare at the animal feeling like an utter imbecile.

++++

"Papa," reaching out a hand, d'Artagnan tugged on papa Athos' doublet, "you know her?"

"We will talk later, d'Art, after we return the Dauphin safely back at the palace." Without looking at Anne, he went to retrieve Roger. Having noted Treville and a company of Musketeers riding into the camp, Athos felt much better knowing that their numbers had increased.

"I will ride with Milady." With a nod at d'Artagnan, Louis waited for his friend to boost him up behind her.

Not about to argue with the child, Athos mounted Roger. "D'Art, you and I can ride double." Once his son settled behind him, Athos went to locate Porthos and Aramis. They had split up upon entering Lematire's camp. His mind still reeling from the discovery of Anne being here, Athos shook off the tragic memory that had led to their parting. Not looking forward to explaining his past relationship to her, he pushed it to the back of his mind for the moment.

As Athos could see, his brothers-in-arms had everything under control. Hearing Porthos threatening to dismember someone, he urged Roger in that general direction. Coming upon his friend standing over a quivering man laying on the ground, Athos' lips curled upward. "I believe you have scared the man enough, Porthos."

Twisting around, Porthos' dark eyes lit up at the sight of d'Artagnan and the Dauphin in the company of his brother. "Nice ta see ya lads." The woman with them was a surprise though. "Picked up some company along the way, Athos?"

Holding up a hand, Athos forestalled further inquiries. "Where is Aramis?"

"Someone call my name?" Sitting upon a boulder, Aramis grinned up at the boys. "You two need any medical attention?"

"We're fine, papa." Glancing over at Louis, d'Artagnan could see his friend was enjoying himself now that he had been rescued.

"I can't wait to get back home to tell maman and papa all about our adventure, d'Art." Filled with excitement, now that the horror of his kidnapping was over, Louis forgot how frightened he had been.

"Adventure the lad calls it." Shaking his head at the Dauphin's words, Aramis got up and joined Porthos. "I wonder where Sebastian is hiding, mmmmm."

When the boys suddenly cried out Roussel's name in tandem, Athos twisted around in his saddle. He had to admit the sight he noted left him with a profound feeling of gratitude to the older seaman.

"Did someone want to know about this moufette?" Kicking the man in the rear-end Roussel enjoyed watching Sebastian falling down to eat dirt.

Pushing himself up from the ground, Sebastian noted Milady sitting pretty on one of his horses with the Dauphin in front of her. Gaining his feet he was about to approach her but halted when a sword pressed against his chest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Aramis warned, wanting nothing more than to run the canaille through with his blade.

"Looks like ya lost a battle with our good captin' 'ere." Porthos was left wondering about those nasty looking claw marks covering Lematire's face. It hurt to even look at them.

"I had some help from Alex." With the marmalade cat comfortably upon Roussel's shoulder, he watched surprise register with everyone.

"'Ave ta remember ta bring Alex with us on our assignments from now on eh, Athos?" Chuckling at the roll of eyes from his older brother, Porthos' eyes sparkled happily.

Distracted by the approach of Roussel, Aramis had momentarily forgotten to ask Athos about the attractive woman that appeared to be in her element amongst them. Eyes shifting toward his friend, he tilted his head to the side. "I like the company you're keeping, mon frere. She's quite delightful to gaze upon."

Refraining from rolling his eyes again upon the obvious interest he detected in Aramis' voice, Athos nipped it in the bud. "We will let Treville know we have located the Dauphin and d'Art. Then we will take some of our other brothers with us for protection on the way back to the Louvre." Before going in search of his captain, Athos leaned down to remove Alex from Roussel's shoulder. Cradling the cat in his arms, he stared down at the top of her head. "I will have to think upon a suitable reward for you, Alex. You have done well." With the cat swishing her tail back and forth, he handed her over to d'Artagnan.

++++

Finished gathering up the last of Lemaitre's band of merry men, Treville noted the inseparable's approach. When the Dauphin waved at him, a cheerful expression on his terribly young face, Treville kept his churning emotions in check. Upon seeing d'Artagnan too, he was doubly pleased. But it was the woman that gave him pause, her green eyes flashing amusement at his lieutenant. The latter sat stiffly in the saddle, making Treville realize that it was her presence which had disturbed Athos somehow.

"Milady saved us, Captain!" Louis just couldn't contain himself, wanting to make sure that her heroic efforts didn't get unnoticed.

"You have done us a great service, Mademoiselle." Dipping his head, Treville smiled his relief.

"I’m only a poor widow, Monsieur," she smacked her lips together, like a cat. "Though I gather tis neither here nor there right now."

"Madame then." Having taken in her words, Treville's sharp gaze rested on Athos once more. "I'm assuming you're taking them back to the palace?"

"Oui and I need some more men to travel with us for protection." Listening to Treville bark out orders, Athos welcomed the presence of Eustis, Monet, DuFort, Germain, Merle and Dandre to make up their numbers. "Come! Tis time to get the Dauphin back where he belongs despite the lateness of the hour.”

++++

_En route to Paris_

Riding abreast of Athos, Milady was able to study his features. They had been young during their all too brief marriage. He definitely didn’t have that boyish look about him any longer. Olivier, for that’s how she always thought of him, was a mature man now along with the inner armor that went along with it. “Do I understand that we are to have complete silence between us on the way back to the city?”

Her question remained unanswered. Except for a tightening of his lips, Milady would have thought he hadn’t heard her. Sighing dramatically, Milady continued a one-way conversation regardless. “I hear you are Captain Treville’s top man. A lieutenant no less in His Majesty’s service. A père to d’Artagnan here,” Milady grinned when the young Gascon looked back at her oddly. The boy was probably trying to figure out how she figured into Olivier’s life. “A responsibility that you have shared with two other friends.” Athos still retained his silence. “Since you divorced me I would have assumed you’d eventually set up house again with someone else of the female persuasion. You should have. It would have mellowed your personality a great deal.”

He had had enough. “I am sorry I did not realize you were an expert on my life and how to live it,” Athos spat out between clenched teeth. “Please continue while I take notes.”

My oh my, Milady realized she had struck a nerve. “No one else could compare to me, I assume.”

Hands tightening on his reins, Athos pretended it was his fingers squeezing her lovely neck. Trying his best to ignore her he abruptly changed his mind. “If you want the truth of it you have put me off women for life.” Her chuff of laughter annoyed him immensely.

 _Divorced?_ D'Artagnan was shocked to the core, discovering that Milady was once married to papa Athos. So many questions whirled around in his head, he didn't know where to start. But as papa had told him earlier now wasn't the time for them. Promising himself he wouldn't let papa forget, d'Artagnan tried to stem the feeling within him that now everything had changed.

++++

_Royal Palace_

The Musketeers had cut their time by well over a half an hour, riding without let up to get their precious cargo delivered safely into the hands of the king and queen.

Late though the hour was, Athos knew that Their Majestys would not be getting any rest until the Dauphin had been returned to them. So it was with great pleasure that he led the escort directly to King Louis’ chambers.

Watching the joyful reunion between the three royals, d’Artagnan was startled when Anne pulled him into a tight hug as well. Then turning him over to Louis the older man repeated the same gesture.

“Do not look so surprised, d’Art,” Louis grinned. “You are famille to us just as much as our son.”

“We have been so very worried." Hugging young Louis close, Anne feared to release him. "Not knowing what had happened to you both. But you're here now safe and sound. That's all that matters."

When his son had first run into his arms, Louis listened to the boy chatter away about the woman that had rescued them. Most curious himself, he wanted to meet her. “Now where is paragon? The lady sounds as brave as any of my Musketeers and mon petit says she resembles an angel.” Observing his soldiers step aside to let a most intriguing figure approach, he tapped a finger to his chin. His child's _angel_ appeared vaguely familiar.

“Perhaps not quite an _angel_ , Sire.” Performing an elegant curtsy, Milady smiled demurely. “More like a good Samaritan.”

++++

_Notes:_

_Moufette_ – skunk  
_Batard_ \- bastard

 _Famille_ \- family

 _Quote: “I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were an expert on my life & how to live it, please continue while I take notes.”_ – from Aunty Acid. (I must say that this one has now become my favorite, LOL!)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, early morning – Inseparable’s residence_

Three displeased faces stared at him over the breakfast table. It was enough to put Athos off the eggs he had been attempting to eat. Knowing what _they_ were waiting for, Athos wasn't about to offer up any explanations until he had some caffeine in his system. So he warned them.

“Everything I say before I have had my first coffee does not count.” Smirking, Athos watched Aramis instantly get to his feet and go over to the stove to retrieve the pot of coffee. While the steaming, dark liquid filled his cup, Athos inhaled the aroma like one would do a breath of fresh air. Blowing on it, so he wouldn't burn his mouth, Athos cradled the cup between both hands. “Have you ever noticed that coffee has a distinctive smell that makes you forget how painful tis to be awake?”

Snorting, Porthos countered, “Yeah and I hate the part of the mornin’ where I ‘ave ta get up and participate in real life.”

“Gentlemen,” Aramis interrupted, ‘if we are in accord on the _painfulness_ of our mornings, I do believe we are owed an explanation upon discovering that Athos has a wife.”

Nearly spitting out a mouthful of coffee, Athos glared up at the marksman. “ _HAD!_ I had a wife!” Turning his eyes away from his friend, he murmured low, “We have been divorced since before I ever met you and Porthos.”

Collapsing upon his chair Aramis gaped at the man, truly astonished that Athos had never divulged this part of his past with them.

Noting Porthos was on the verge of spitting out a question, Athos held up a finger. “We married young and upon consideration… in haste. Much to my bitter disappointment.” Feeling d’Artagnan place a hand upon his arm, squeezing gently, Athos warmly smiled at his son for the gesture. "I later discovered the fleur-de-lis branded upon her shoulder indicating that Anne was not only a thief but a murderess as well."

"Mon Dieu!" Not even beginning to imagine the pain Athos must have felt at the time, Aramis now understood why it had been such a struggle to get the man to accept his friendship, and that of Porthos, when they had first met him.

Wanting to voice his feelings, Porthos held back because of d'Artagnan's presence. Afraid his words wouldn't be something his son should hear, he allowed himself to vent his anger by slamming his palm down so hard upon the kitchen table that it stung. With Aramis staring at him in mild reproof, Porthos continued to listen to Athos' words.

“As seigneur of my lands I ordered her execution.” Listening to their gasps of shock, he carried on. “Apparently God or le diable had other plans for Anne.” Lost in a brief moment of that tragic memory, Athos sighed. Collecting himself he said, “The rope from which she was hung snapped in two and Anne fell to the ground... very much alive." Adding the latter part in a dry undertone, Athos didn't leave them in any doubt that he had wished otherwise.

It was a good thing papa hadn’t looked toward d’Artagnan just then. Upon hearing what Milady had been, and more than likely still was, made him want to keep his silence to himself about his own acquaintance with her.

Observing d’Artagnan showing signs of becoming uncomfortable, Athos knew this usually meant that the boy had other troubles on his mind. Granted it could be simply that his son was feeling overly emotional on Athos' behalf. But he prided himself on being able to read the lad fairly well. Non, d'Artagnan was dealing with other issues. Getting the child to tell them, bien that was easier said than done. Athos tried anyway. “I feel you need to unburden yourself over something.”

Afraid to meet papa’s understanding eyes d’Artagnan began to turn his face away, only to have his chin tenderly grasped and turned back. “I’ve…” he took in a calming breath, “I’ve met Milady a few times but never told any of you except Captain Treville.”

It came as a huge surprised to Athos that Treville knew before he did. “When did the captain know?”

“After I came back from making purchases for him. He knew I felt slightly off balance and asked me for the reason.” Biting his lip, d’Artagnan noted papa Athos’ eyes suddenly blaze to life.

“What did _she_ do to you?” Feeling his anger build, Athos wished Anne a million miles away from Paris and his son.

“It wasn’t what she did exactly.” Leaning his elbows on the table, d’Artagnan bent his head nearly touching that of papa Athos. “I had the funny feeling that she already knew who I was and sought me out deliberately. Now I know for certain."

“Merde!” Swearing softly, Athos startled d’Artagnan with his increasing anger. Opening his mouth to warn the boy against further meetings with his ex-wife, there was a loud pounding upon their front door.

Aramis went to open it and nearly got tossed on his ass for the trouble when a pretty whirlwind in blue rushed past him. Bemused he watched Constance engulf d’Artagnan in a strangle hold, threatening the lad’s ability to breathe. Casually sauntering over to the pair his dark eyes alighted on the radiance of her very lovely features. “Bonjour to you too.”

Releasing her friend Constance whirled around, blushing profusely. “I apologize for my rudeness, Aramis. Tis just that I heard the news first thing this morn from Merle and I wanted to make sure d’Art was unhurt.”

“We are pleased d’Artagnan has you in his corner.” Smiling at the young woman, Athos offered her a chair. At the shake of her titian head, Constance remained standing.

“I have to be at the palace shortly.’ Sniffing the air, she noted Porthos standing at the stove. “Is that coffee I smell?”

Chuckling, Porthos poured her some. “You’re as bad as Athos before 'is mornin’ cup, petite soeur.”

Inhaling the aroma, Constance drank it down as if it had been the most wonderful tasting elixir. When finished, she had a question of import for d'Artagnan. "Who was the woman that was involved?" When the inseparables began to groan, and Athos hid his face in his hands, her eyebrows shot up.

"Tis a complicated tale, Constance." His words didn't quell her natural curiosity so Aramis put an arm around her shoulders. Whispering in her ear he said, "Long story short... Milady is Athos' ex-wife."

This time Constance did sit down, stunned at what she had been told. "I don't understand."

"Neither did we," Porthos grunted. "On the way back 'ome we listened ta Milady refer to Athos as having divorced 'er."

Jumping out of her chair, as if she had been stung, Constance laid a comforting hand upon Athos' shoulder. "You and I are going to have a long talk over all this later. Much as I would love to stay I can't tarry any longer or I shall be late." Quickly leaning down Constance pressed a gentle kiss on Athos' cheek. Then she placed one on d'Artagnan's forehead before whisking out the door.

"Papa," mimicing what Constance had done, d'Artagnan gripped papa Athos' shoulder, "I'm terribly sorry your marriage didn't work out but I'm even sorrier that you felt you couldn't tell us about it."

"Only reason Treville knew was because he had been acquainted with my family. When things fell apart for me and I joined the regiment it was to him I confided." Not realizing how exhausting explanations could be, Athos wished he was done with it. "It made sense to tell him since Anne was the reason I left my estate behind me and became a soldier. Besides I knew Treville would keep my secret."

"Mis, did Athos just say _'is estate?_ "

"Porthos, I do believe you are correct." Folding his arms Aramis stared hard at Athos, wondering what other secrets their long-time friend had not told them.

"Do you not remember me saying I was _seigneur_ of my lands?" Drumming his fingers impatiently upon the table Athos canted his head, irritation with his brothers growing.

"Guessin' that part slipped my mind when ya mentioned 'avin' a woman executed." Propping himself up against the wall, Porthos observed Aramis nod his head in full agreement with him.

"After my parents died la Fere passed into my hands." Hanging his head down, Athos tried not to get lost again in those dark memories. "Upon learning what Anne was... all her lies... and then the botched execution, I turned my back on it all."

"Ya came from a well ta do famille. I don't know if'n I could 'ave done that." Thinking on how he had grown up in the Court, struggling for every morsel to eat, Porthos couldn't conceive of giving up such a lavish life style like Athos had.

"Tis amazing what one can do when you put your mind to it." Standing up Athos drew closer to his brothers. "Honestly have not either of you ever wondered where the extra funds magically came from whenever we needed things for the house or for d'Art?"

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Aramis shook his head. "I simply assumed King Louis or Captain Treville helped out." His sharp gaze never wavered from Athos. "Apparently I was wrong."

"I thought Athos 'ad won some money playin' cards at The Wren." Porthos watched Athos' blue eyes narrow.

"After all this time, Porthos, you should know better than anyone how I cut back on that particular past-time while raising our son. As have the both of you done." Since Athos had told them this much he might as well tell them the rest. "But to ease your minds my money safely rests in the bank."

"With the passage of time, Athos, wouldn't it have run out by now?" It was an honest question or so Aramis believed.

"The la Fere lands cover a major portion of Pinon. My parent's retainers still live there along with their own families." Pouring himself another cup of coffee Athos took a sip. "They continue to pay me rent even though I have tried to stop them but alas they insist to honor the agreement originally made with my parents." Finished with his drink, Athos pushed the cup off to the side. "So I have told them to pay me at their own convenience whenever they have the coin."

Wanting to hear more of papa's past but not wanting to be late for his lessons, d'Artagnan grabbed his books. "Perhaps you could tell me more when I come back from the palace."

Noting the school books in the boy's arms, Athos had completely forgotten the time. He didn't bother to answer his son's question. "I do not want to be the reason you are late for school. Now off with you." As the lad ran outside to where Tempest waited, Athos almost was almost afraid to let d'Artagnan out of his sight. Standing at the door he watched the youngster ride out. With the presence of Aramis and Porthos on either side of him, he realized they both felt the same as he.

++++

_Royal Palace_

All was back to normal now that the Dauphin was home. The daily routine, once more in play, found young Louis and d'Artagnan together again in class. It remained so, until near the noon hour when both of them were summoned before Their Majestys.

++++

_King Louis' chambers_

When the two youngsters entered the room, Louis and Anne were fully engaged over a chess board. Upon their entrance, Louis grinned and waved them forward. Amusement danced about his lips, when he gazed into Anne's eyes. Pointing to the chess pieces, he chuckled. "Chess is the only game in the world which reflects the status of the husband." Anne chose that moment to be attacked by a fit of giggles. Rolling his eyes, Louis continued. "The poor king can take only one step at a time while the mighty queen can do whatever she likes."

Both d'Artagnan and young Louis thought it a witty remark and began to laugh at the jest. Stepping forward d'Artagnan looked over the board. "I could give you some advice if you'd like. I'm quite accomplished."

"Cheeky brat," Louis teased. "Though I may have to take you up on your kind offer at some point." Seeing that Anne had him backed into a corner, in regards to the game, Louis grimaced turning his attention back upon the boys again. "D'Artagnan, Anne and I wanted to thank you again for trying to protect our child. Louis told me how brave you were standing up to Sebastian Lemaitre for him."

"But it was Milady that set us free before the Musketeers and Red Guards stormed the camp." Praise should really go to the one that had earned it, d'Artagnan thought.

Modesty was a commodity the young Gascon had in spades. It was a quality Louis admired in the lad. Today he would reward it. "Considering what the two of you had just been through," he winked at Anne, "I hereby declare that your punishment is ended." Making it sound like a royal decree, Louis was quite pleased. Observing that both children at first appeared stunned at his announcement, it didn't last long. Only a matter of seconds passed when he was attacked by his own child. The petit nearly crushed Louis' windpipe, so tight was the boy's hold around his neck. Then when the same thing happened to Anne, Louis clapped his hands in delight.

"Merci." Wanting to leap for joy d'Artagnan contained his exuberance, settling for watching his best friend bounce all over the room.

"By the way, d'Art," eyes sparkling with happiness at her child's antics, Anne smiled pleasantly at the young Gascon, "has Alex been rewarded yet for her own bravery?"

"Last eve papa Athos said something about purchasing the choicest steak for her to enjoy."

"Alex is deserving of being rewarded with her attack on Lemaitre," Louis said. "I had an up close and personal look at what her sharp claws had done to the canaille's face. It was truly a magnificent piece of work."

"I'll be spoiling her for a time that's for sure." Hesitating, for but a brief moment, d'Artagnan needed to ask Louis about Milady. "Last eve we departed before Milady had done so and she has been on my mind."

"And you wondered where she had gone afterwards." Anne understood d'Artagnan's concern for the woman stemmed from a feeling of being beholden to her.

"I suitably rewarded Milady for her bravery and had a coach take Madame back to her apartments," Louis explained. "Indeed our lovely good Samaritan had played her part well." Pointing a finger at d'Artagnan, he added, "In fact she told us that it was because of her association with you that when word got out about the kidnappings Milady wanted to help."

"And at great risk to her person." Wishing she could have been as brave, Anne thanked the heavens for women of Milady's caliber. "We also extended to her an open invitation to come visit with us whenever Milady would like."

Now that d'Artagnan knew the woman's true colors, he wondered if warning Louis and Anne was prudent at this juncture. Milady loose in the Louvre was like opening the royal coffers up to the masses. Soon Louis would discover he had been bankrupted. Oh perhaps d'Artagnan judged her too harshly now that he had an inkling of her past relationship with papa Athos. So instead of speaking what was on his mind he settled for saying, "I'm sure I shall be running into her again soon." Still he mulled over whether or not to inform them that Milady used to be married to papa. Deciding against it, d'Artagnan figured it should be left up to papa to tell them if he wanted the royals to know. For now he was simply happy about being with young Louis other than in the classroom. They had a lot of mischief to catch up on, even though it had only been a couple of weeks apart. D'Artagnan was sure that Louis and Anne had informed the royal guards to be prepared.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: “Everything I say before I’ve had my first coffee doesn’t count.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: “Coffee has a distinctive smell that makes you forget how painful it is to be awake._ – from Aunty Acid

_Quote: “I hate the part of the morning where I have to get up and participate in real life.”_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Chess is the only game in the world which reflects the status of the husband. The poor king can take only one step at a time while the mighty queen can do whatever she likes."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Seigneur_ – Lord.  
_Le diable_ – The devil.  
_Petite soeur_ \- Little sister.  
_Famille_ \- family.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I need to put this but just a small warning that there will be several deaths in this chapter. I don't go into any detail so no worries there.
> 
> Also this chapter was way longer than I intended but I didn't want to break it into parts.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_A month later_

_Late afternoon - Royal Palace - Queen Anne's chambers_

Louis was bouncing around the room like a petit on a sugar high. Anne was amused, to say the least. "Tell me, mon coeur, what has you so excited this time?"

Clapping his hands together with delight, Louis sat down beside her. "The renowned astronomer Marmion has converted an old, derelict fort not far from here into an observatory." His broad grin showed off a set of gleaming white teeth. "I've sent word to him and arranged for us to view the coming solar eclipse from there."

"Louis," her eyes lit up, "that's wonderful!"

"Oui, oui." Beaming with pleasure, he was quite pleased with himself. "Twas a brilliant idea, even if I do say so myself."

"Which you just did." Gently jibing her spouse, Anne chuckled. "Our son will be thrilled."

"Not just him but d'Art as well." Shaking off the terrible memories of dealing first with a hired assassin and then a kidnapping, Louis felt perhaps they all needed something like this to relax. "I feel they deserve a treat after what they've both been through the past month and a half."

Inclining her head, agreeing with Louis, she wanted to know who else was included. "I assume there are others coming along, aside from our guards?"

"Several of our courtiers of course and I've also sent an invitation out to Milady."

Knowing the part the woman had played in rescuing the youngsters, Anne thought it especially nice of Louis to have included Milady in their outing.

"Of course we'll have the inseparables with us," Louis added. "Also I'll have Treville and a few other Red Guards and Musketeers along for protection."

"I'm going to ask Constance to come as well." Hugging Louis, she was very happy at his thoughtful gesture. "I shall now be anxious until tis time for the event." Standing up, Anne held out her hand to him. When Louis stood as well, together they walked out of her chambers to inform their petit.

++++

_The Inseparable's residence_

"I never saw a cat eat like that before." Amused, Porthos had watched Alex attack her steak nearly in the same manner that she had Lemaitre back at the canaille's camp. Athos had purchased steaks for the entire family to enjoy which included Alex most of all. It was her reward for getting Sebastian good and proper with her claws. So Aramis had prepared hers first making sure to cut the steak up into small pieces that were easier for Alex to consume. It seemed to Porthos that within a blink of an eye the steak had been devoured. All that remained was to observe her tiny pink tongue licking at the empty plate.

"If she has a stomach ache from this..." He didn't bother finishing his concern. It was just that d'Artagnan never remembered Alex eating steak before and didn't want her to get sick. She was more used to eating chicken and other staples. Perhaps he was making too much out of papa Athos' gesture. Papa Aramis, who was still at the stove, shrugged a shoulder and pointed over at papa Athos.

"I somehow doubt she will suffer from the bounty that mon frere had purchased for Alex's palate." Beginning to prepare their own steaks, Aramis' snuff of laughter reached out to his son. "If blame falls on anyone remember twas Athos' decision upon what to reward our tangerine heroine."

"If we are done with playing the blame game," Athos slowly drawled in a bored tone, "I have an invitation to deliver for d'Art. Treville handed it off to me before I left the Garrison."

Snatching it from papa's hands, d'Artagnan quickly scanned the contents. When finished, he whooped out loud enough in the kitchen to make papa Aramis nearly burn himself on the cast iron skillet.

"What's it say, whelp?" Exchanging raised brows with his brothers out of curiosity, Porthos could see how happy the kid was. So the news couldn't be anything to worry over.

"I'm going to see the solar eclipse with Louis." Waving his invitation in the air, d'Artagnan didn't understand papa Porthos' reaction.

The _Louis_ in question was obviously the runt's best friend and not His Majesty. Snorting, Porthos said, "Ya could see it right fine from 'ere. What's the big deal if'n ya see it at the palace?"

"Non!" Slapping the invitation into papa Porthos' hand d'Artagnan indicated for him to read it. "I'm to go with all of them to the astronomer's observatory."

Leaning over Porthos' shoulder, Athos took in the words written there. So it was to be a royal outing. He could guess at why his son had been included. All things considered, with the close friendship that existed between the Dauphin and d'Artagnan, Athos doubted his son would have been left out anyway.

"Is that a good idea?" Slaving over the hot stove, Aramis swiped a hand over his brow.

It was always a worry when taking the royals outside anywhere. Malcontents seemed to come out of every nook and cranny to take pot shots at them. Most especially toward His Majesty. Exchanging concerned looks with Porthos, Athos noted his larger friend appeared to harbor Aramis' troubled thoughts on the matter as well.

"Oh come on!" Not understanding things from his papa's sides, d'Artagnan couldn't see what the problem was.

"Looks like I'll be having a word with Treville over this." About to retrieve his chapeau, Athos stopped when Aramis began tutting.

"You're going to walk out on our juicy steaks?" Dramatically sighing, Aramis began muttering under his breath.

Amusement danced about Athos' lips, listening to the creative names Aramis was calling him. Bohemian was one of them, for flouting convention and daring to leave before dinner was served. Apparently Athos was about to commit a capital crime. "If it will satisfy you, Aramis, I shall stay until I have eaten."

"Good choice," Aramis snapped. "Otherwise your steak would have been as hard as Porthos' skull by the time you came back."

"'Ey! Watch who you're callin' names, Mis!"

Listening to this, not so unusual exchange, d'Artagnan sat down to the dinner table. Re-reading his invitation, his excitement grew.

++++

_Later at the Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

Running hands through his hair, or what remained of it, Treville's expression was open for interpretation.

Casually leaning against the wall, arms folded, Athos concentrated on the other man. Usually he was very good at reading the older officer. Sometimes even knowing what Treville would say or do before even the man himself reacted. Tonight, however, Athos was uncertain.

"I knew this was coming as Louis had been making rumbling noises over it these past several weeks." Beating a tattoo upon his desk, Treville looked over at his lieutenant. "Things have been quiet of late. I believe a few Red Guards and Musketeers, along with you three and myself, should be enough protection." Bending his head, Treville studied the top of his mahogany desk. "Tis not like Marmion's observatory is that far away from the city if trouble were to occur."

"But?" There was a _but_ hovering somewhere above Treville's head like a black cloud. Already it left Athos feeling like something dragged at the pit of his stomach.

"I don't know," Treville huffed. He was more annoyed at his uncertainty than he cared to admit. "When I figure it out you'll be the first person I go to, Athos."

"When are we to leave?" If the invitation had stated it, Athos didn't remember. Worry for Their Majestys, the Dauphin and his son were uppermost in his mind at the time.

"The eclipse takes place in two days."

"I'll make sure we're prepared." Knowing his clipped response would not go unnoticed by Treville, Athos cared not. Something did not sit right with him and until he could put a finger upon it, his attitude would not change.

++++

_Two days later - outside the Royal Palace_

The day of the eagerly awaited eclipse found the royals being helped into their carriage. The others traveling with them were doing likewise, with other carriages provided.

Treville had spoken too soon over the idea that things had been quiet lately. For word had reached him that a group of malcontents were instigating a riot in the city streets. It meant that he personally wouldn't be able to supervise the safety of Their Majestys and the young Dauphin.

Also Treville would need to contain the rioters with the help of his right hand man. Athos would probably be upset over that but needs must. Oh his lieutenant wouldn't be concerned with missing the show put on by Marmion, that Treville new for certain. Non, Athos would not like the idea because of not being there to guard d'Artagnan.

As Treville watched the first carriage containing the king and queen leave the grounds, he remembered something he once told Athos... _you can't be there for every step or misstep the lad makes_. Thinking upon Athos' uncomplimentary retort to Treville's words at the time, a quiet snort escaped him . With a jerk of his head, along with a raised brow toward Athos, Treville waived the man over to his position. As yet the younger Musketeer had not mounted Roger.

When Athos approached, Treville informed him what was happening within the city limits.

"I do not like this," Athos bit out, grinding his teeth together.

"You think I do?" Sighing, running a hand up and down the back of his neck Treville said, "We'll add a few more guards to the detail to make up the numbers."

"I will see to it, Captain." Marching off in the general direction of the palace, Athos disappeared inside.

++++

_Marmion's observatory_

Alighting from their carriages, d'Artagnan helped Constance down the sleight, rocky path that led to the renovated fort. Young Louis was walking on the other side of her and reached out to help when Constance nearly tripped on a protruding tree root.

Porthos was behind them, guiding Milady over the same path. Though she kept batting his hand away saying she could take care of herself. He could believe it after finding her in Lemaitre's camp trying to get the boys out completely on her own. It told him quite a lot about the woman's character. One... she was either insane or two... brave beyond belief. "They say the solar eclipse is like God puttin' 'is 'and over the sun."

"I admit anything having to do with the planets is beyond my capabilities to understand." Once more she shooed the large, dark-skinned Musketeer away, as Milady stepped over the same root that nearly tripped up Constance.

Somehow Porthos doubted her words but kept his silence on the matter.

"I can't help being nervous," Constance admitted to d'Artagnan.

Patting her hand, d'Artagnan smiled. "There's nothing to be scared of."

"I'm not." Gripping his hand tighter she said, "Tis just a ... _feeling_."

++++

Filing inside the observatory, everyone was led to an area where the main show would begin. Figures dressed in dark robes, wearing bird-like masks with exaggerated beaks, were slightly unnerving to some of the guests.

Once seated a man of medium build stepped forward. "Welcome Your Majestys." Performing an elaborate bow he continued with his introduction. "I am _Marmion_."

"The great astronomer," King Louis nodded. "All Paris is talking of the eclipse."

"Tis a sight to behold, Sire." Walking around a circular raised podium in the center of the room, Marmion whipped off the covering. "Behold the motion of the heavens!" Listening to gasps of excitement fill the room, an ironic quirk touched Marmion's lips. "May I present the camera obscura?"

Within the raised podium, the sky above was reflected in all its glory. "My wonderful device will allow Your Majestys to witness every detail." Walking toward the rapt guests, his steady gaze rested on the entire gathering. "Just be sure to wear the protective eye coverings we handed out to each of you upon entering. Twill allow everyone to observe a harmless reflection of the solar eclipse as it occurs."

"Isn't this fun, d'Art." Sitting between his best friend and Constance, Louis was eager to view his first solar eclipse.

"Oui." Grinning at his young companion, d'Artagnan reached out and ruffled Louis' hair. The scowl he received in turn amused him no end. "It happens to me all the time so deal with it."

"Athos would have enjoyed this," Constance whispered. Just before they had left she remembered disappointment register with d'Artagnan, when Athos had told them he and Captain Treville were required to stay behind because of unrest in the city.

"Mmmmm," d'Aragnan softly hummed. "Or he would have been bored to tears." Her light laughter had his dark eyes twinkling in response.

When the eclipse began everyone instantly stood up, gathering around the podium. Covering their eyes with what had been given to them, they stared down into it. Simultaneously it was then that Marmion's nefarious plans went into motion.

Fully armed men attacked and subdued Porthos, Aramis and two of the Red Guards that were stationed upstairs.

Below, the royals and their entourage were overtaken in the same manner. Shouts and screams, which came from the near hysterical crowd of guests, echoed within the chamber. A swarm of men rounded up the shocked party, herding them all back over to their seats. Weapons trained on their victims with deadly intent, showing everyone that even if they dared to think upon escape that it was a futile thing at best.

Their Majestys clung to one another in fear, not only for themselves but that of their child. For now young Louis sat huddled in-between d'Artagnan and Constance. The fear they noted reflected in the petit's eyes, as their son bravely tried not to show it, reminded the royals how strong their child was. No doubt due to d'Artagnan's influence.

"Why, Marmion?" Completely bewildered by this turn of events, King Louis wanted an honest response from the man. "To what purpose does this serve?"

Nonchalantly walking back and forth, Marmion's eyes never left the perplexed monarch. A coin weaved in and out of his fingers, like a magician's. "We must consider our own place in the universe."

Losing his patience with this charade, King Louis shouted. " _WHAT THE DEUCE DOES THAT MEAN?_ "

"It m _eans_... do we control our fate or are we merely the playthings of a power beyond understanding."

" _YOU'RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!_ " Shouting, King Louis couldn't help himself. He was dealing with a madman. " _NONE OF US UNDERSTAND... AND FRANKLY NOR DO I CARE!_ "

"Ah!" Chuckling, Marmion shrewdly studied the king's discomfort. "That is the crux of the problem. _You... don't... care_." Pausing, his eyes drifted toward the frightened courtiers. Flipping a single coin into the air Marmion smiled, but it was hardly one of warmth. "The time has come to make choices."

"What kind of choices?" Piping up with that d'Artagnan shook off Constance's restraining hand, the latter doing her best to shush him.

"Simple ones with simple outcomes." Flipping his coin into the air again he caught it between two fingers. Holding it up in front of him, Marmion compared it to King Louis' features. "A fair likeness." Before he could say anything further, a voice from upstairs shouted down to him.

"At least let the women and children go before you continue with your blasted game!"

Motioning for his men to cover everyone, Marmion took the stairs leading to where the Musketeer stood. "Repeat what you just said," he asked quietly.

"Let the women and children go." What happened next would be burned into Aramis' brain for eternity, as he felt himself unexpectedly shoved through the window. Shards of glass cut his face but all Aramis felt was regret that his son would have nightmares over his demise.

" _PAPA!_ " Horrified, wanting to see what happened to papa Aramis, d'Artagnan was pushed back by Marmion's men. Hearing papa Porthos shouting obsenities and vows of retribution at the other men still upstairs with him, d'Artagnan felt powerless. When they took papa Porthos and the remaining Red Guards and Musketeers away, a sinking feeling threatened to overwhelm him. With Constance's arms around him, he buried his face in her shoulder.

Rejoining his captive audience Marmion focused solely on the king. Flipping a coin he commanded, "Call!"

"For what purpose?" Fearing the outcome of his question, and still in shock over what happened to Aramis, King Louis gripped the arms of his chair.

An odd look crossed Marmion's face. "That's the fun of the game. You don't know but you must call."

Wondering upon different ways of dealing with this man, King Louis decided to remain firm. "Not unless you tell me why."

"Bien," Marmion shrugged, as if it was of no consequence to him whether the king answered or not, "call correctly and you leave. Call wrongly and you die."

Trying to stand up, Milady was shoved back down into her chair by one of the hawk-like creatures guarding them. "I'll do it."

"Milady," d'Artagnan dared to call out, "don't play his game!"

Ignoring the youngster, she watched Marmion nod at her to gain her feet.

"So you alone have the courage to play my game." Dipping his head slightly in respect, Marmion smiled. "I am impressed."

"Frankly I'd rather be dead than have to listen to your endless babble for one more minute." Arching a brow, Milady hoped the astronomer understood that she wasn't impressed with him. "Heads... I call heads."

Marmion flipped the coin and caught it on the way down. Slapping it on the back of his hand he noted that the woman had called correctly. Indicating the way out he said, "You may leave."

Before Milady left, she dared to wink at d'Artagnan. A move that Marmion thankfully hadn't seen. She hoped her gesture told the boy to have courage.

Realizing that since Milady was free it meant she would be able to go for help, it relieved d'Artagnan's mind somewhat. It gave them all a chance, slim oui, but a chance all the same. But soon his faith was badly shaken, when one of the courtiers stood up and announced that he wanted a chance for freedom as well. It ended badly, with the man being shot dead.

"Fate intervenes," Marmion murmured. "That one's fate was sealed the moment my coin spun in the air."

"How does fate intervene?" d'Artagnan questioned. "We all have the same fate... the same luck. There's nothing anyone can do about it."

Eyes sliding away from the bravery of the boy speaking his mind, Marmion glanced at King Louis. "But some of us have the dice loaded by wealth and privilege." Looking around the room at some of the pampered individuals shivering in their seats, he shook his head. "Some of you don't know what tis like to make hard choices."

"Life is about choices, Marmion." Breaking his silence, King Louis wanted the astronomer's attention drawn away from the young Gascon. "It can't be avoided. Some choices are unpleasant and have to be made but there are always consequences." Praying with all his might that Milady speedily gets to the Garrison with news of their plight, he tried to think of ways to stall this lunatic.

"My point exactly." Giving orders to his men, Marmion had Queen Anne and the Dauphin removed. Ignoring His Majesty's loud shouts of protest, he also had the rest of the courtiers taken away. Leaving him to deal with King Louis, the Gascon child and the young woman.

"What are you going to do with them?" Worrying his lower lip, d'Artagnan held tight to Constance.

"Only what fate decides."

++++

Thinking he was going to meet his maker Aramis instead woke up, blinking up into the brightly lit sky. Shards of broken glass surrounded his bruised and battered body... but he was alive. In a bit of agony right now but still amongst the living. Apparently he owed his own fate to a canopy precisely placed underneath the window Aramis had recently been thrown out of.

While carefully finding a way to get back inside the observatory, Aramis remembered a time before their petit Gascon came into their lives. He had been entertaining the idea of entering the priesthood. Something his parents had always wanted for him. It seemed God did work in mysterious ways, opening up a new path for Aramis to take with a three year old in tow. Exchanging the priesthood for fatherhood was the best decision he could have made for himself. He was a better man for it. Wincing with pain, every movement caused him, Aramis wished his guardian angel had cushioned the fall for him.

++++

_The Garrison_

Shortly after winning her freedom, Milady had taken one of the horses and headed for the Garrison without incident.

After containing the riots, Athos and Treville were observing the solar eclipse from the balcony. Seeing no sense in leaving for the observatory at this point, they covered their eyes as they looked upward. Upon Milady's abrupt appearance, they were surprised and instantly on the alert.

Not mincing words, she plowed right in. "Marmion's captured everyone and Aramis is dead!" Both men looked at her as if she were off her head. "If we don't hurry the king and queen could be next!"

Lips pressed firmly together, Athos didn't believe her. Turning to face Treville he snarled, "She is a liar and a cheat. Why should we trust her?"

Rolling her eyes at her former husband, Milady stepped between the two soldiers. "I repeat... Aramis is dead. The king is in terrible danger but by all means let's discuss my moral character," she paused to let that sink in. "We have all day." 

"Milady did risk her life to save the Dauphin and d'Art." Treville knew he didn't have to remind Athos of that but he also realized the younger man might not be thinking clearly with his ex-wife present.

"All right." Heading straight for the door Athos threw over his shoulder, "I'll gather together the men."

++++

_Back at the Observatory_

In the meantime, Aramis managed to crawl into an opened window. Making his way down the deserted hallway he heard the familiar voice of Queen Anne speaking with someone. That someone turned out to be one of Marmion's minions. Waiting for an opportunity Aramis knocked the man out then slipped inside the room. Relieved to see Her Majesty in one piece, as was her son, he worried all the more for the others left with the astronomer. "Before anything else, Your Majesty, I must get you and the Dauphin away from here." With Aramis in the lead, Queen Anne and the Dauphin followed him out of their temporary prison. Though Aramis had his hands full, when the petit wanted to stay and help rescue the king and d'Artagnan. Finally dissuading the child, he thought upon the day the Dauphin seated himself upon King Louis' throne. Aramis believed France would be in more than capable hands.

++++

Elsewhere, below in the dungeons, Porthos, and the remaining guards were chained to the walls. Swearing a blue streak, Porthos tried but couldn't break the metal links. Trying not to think about what happened to Aramis, he focused on what he could do right now. That was break out of here and save his son and Their Majestys. "Listen up, men!" Porthos growled. "Let's work together ta get outta 'ere! We're not gonna let some metal chains keep us in check!"

++++

Seeing what his brother was doing, Robert took Marmion aside. No matter what he said to him, his sibling wouldn't listen. "This wasn't what we discussed. I don't want a mass slaughter but it seems you do."

"And yet because of the king we are the only family we have left." Pushing Robert aside, Marmion's eyes flashed in anger. "Remember the plague? I can never forget." Taking Robert by the shoulder, he leaned in close. "Trust me." Signaling one of his men to come forward, Marmion stepped closer to His Majesty.

"What do you intend to do?" His eyes going back and forth between Louis and Marmion, d'Artagnan had a feeling something terrible was about to happen.

"The king has to play the game," Marmion stated flatly. "In one room awaits your queen and son. The other contains three of your loyal courtiers."

"Tell me what is going to happen if I do?" Noting the weapon Marmion's man held, King Louis covered his eyes. "Mon Dieu!"

"Louis don't do it!" d'Artagnan pleaded, knowing nothing good would come from it.

"The first room or the second." Amused at the indecision crossing the king's face, Marmion waited.

Beside himself with worry, King Louis' red rimmed eyes skittered away from d'Artagnan's. "One." Closing his eyes again, he quietly murmured, "May God forgive me." It wasn't long in coming, after his decision, that shots rang out. Then King Louis began to fall apart. On his knees sobbing he begged Marmion. " _WHOM DID YOU KILL? TELL ME!_ "

" _DON'T TORMENT HIM!_ " Yelling at Marmion, d'Artagnan felt Constance's arms take a firm hold of him once more.

"The queen and the Dauphin yet live." The youth strangely interested Marmion. He hadn't forgotten about the Musketeer that went flying out the window earlier. When it had happened, this boy had shouted out _papa_. So the gallant Musketeer that stood up to him had been this child's père. Pity. But the man had challenged fate and lost. This youngster didn't appear afraid of Marmion but sadly was loyal toward the monarch.

"What made you like this?" It was a simple question, though d'Artagnan figured the answer would be a complicated one. Feeling sick at heart upon the loss of the courtiers, he still couldn't contain his natural curiosity.

Glancing at His Majesty, Marmion's eyes darkened. "Now for the first time in your life you understand what your choices really mean." He could tell that the king still didn't comprehend what he was talking about. "My village suffered the plague." Pointing a finger at King Louis, Marmion spat, "A blockade had been erected around us!"

"To prevent infection from spreading," King Louis retorted. "It's always been done that way."

"But we waited and waited for food supplies that never arrived!" Shooting the monarch a look that didn't bode well for the king, Marmion continued. "First my wife died and eventually my two sons. I watched them starve to death because of your indifference!" Shaking off the dreadful memory, Marmion pointed to the young woman. Flipping his coin again, he stared at King Louis. "Time to choose."

" _NON!_ " Shouting at both men, d'Artagnan wouldn't let this happen. " _DON'T MAKE THE CALL, LOUIS!_ " His friend was caught in a no win situation so hearing Louis say _tails_ , d'Artagnan became weak in the knees. Apparently that was the wrong call to make, upon noting Marmion step forward pointing a pistol at Constance.

"Go ahead and shoot me." Constance bravely faced the astronomer. "What would your wife and children think of you now? They would be ashamed."

"You dare to even speak of my family!" The pistol began to shake in Marmion's hand, angered as he was by her audacity.

" _DON'T!_ " Not letting another tragedy occur, d'Artagnan gained the astronomer's attention again. "Take my life instead of hers." Observing Marmion hesitating, he pressed on. "I made my offer."

Constance shook her head at the boy, tears pooling in her eyes.

Stepping in front of her, d'Artagnan stood firm. She was one of his best friends. Never would he let Constance down.

When Marmion accepted the young Gascon's sacrifice he aimed at the boy, taking his shot. He died inside when instead the ball entered his brother Robert who foolishly jumped in front of the youngster.

Screaming at the same time the weapon fired, it took Constance by surprise to see her young friend not bleeding out at her feet.

Weeping as he knelt at Robert's side, Marmion didn't understand what happened. "Why?"

"My choice, brother." The light faded away from Robert's eyes as he went limp in Marmion's arms.

Furious at the loss of Robert, Marmion aimed his pistol at the monarch. Before he could follow through with his intent, the observatory filled with Musketeers and Red Guards. Amongst them were the ones he had chained in the dungeons. With a last look at Robert's body, Marmion escaped leaving his own men behind to fight off the soldiers.

" _I WANT THAT MADMAN'S HEAD!_ " Screamed King Louis before he was ushered out of the observatory by his old fox to be reunited with his wife and child.

As other soldiers piled inside the building, it was Porthos that thought he was seeing a ghost. When he realized his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, a broad grin broke out on his swarthy face.

"I found this one outside tending to Queen Anne and the Dauphin." Observing a myriad of emotions pass over Porthos' features, Athos grimly smiled.

"Fancy meetin' ya 'ere." Stunned couldn't even begin to cover Porthos' feelings upon seeing Aramis alive and breathing. Hugging his friend tightly he then slapped him on the back. "You're kinda hard ta kill. Ya know that?"

A snuff of laughter escaped Aramis. He was just so happy to see Porthos that words simply couldn't come to mind."

"Happy as I am at this reunion," Athos drawled, though relief clearly showed in his blue eyes, "Porthos, please take the king to safety outside."

"I'm sorry, I don't take orders," Porthos snorted. "I barely take suggestions!" Winking at both men, he did as asked anyway. First though he made sure his son and Constance were all right.

Lifted up in the air and twirled around by papa Porthos, d'Artagnan felt a sloppy kiss placed on top of his head.

"Now, runt, go see who came back from the dead." Turning his son around to face Aramis, Porthos thought d'Artagnan was about to faint.

Running over to the man he thought never to see again d'Artagnan was engulfed within papa Aramis' arms. Tears unashamedly ran down his face. Not sure who was crying more, d'Artagnan buried his face in the crook of papa's neck. "You're all right?" he sniffed out. But of course papa Aramis couldn't be fine, from a fall like the one he had taken. 

"I've gained a few new beauty marks upon my face but they'll only add to my debonair reputation," Aramis quipped for his son. "Think, d'Artagnan, upon all the stories I could tell the ladies of my acquaintance." Teasing a smile from his son, Aramis then released the lad.

"I'm one of those acquaintances," Constance spoke up. "I could slap you silly for scaring me like that but this will have to do instead." Throwing her arms around Aramis' neck she kissed him full on the lips.

Grinning like a loon, Aramis kept hold of her. "I should be thrown out of windows more often if I get a reaction like that from you, Constance."

Slapping him on the chest, she scowled up into his handsome features. "You do and I'll never speak to you again."

Clearing his throat, Treville made his presence known. "For those of you who are interested," he stabbed Aramis with a look, "our men have captured everyone still within the observatory. Unfortunately Marmion is dead."

"By whose hand?" Aramis asked. He would have loved to have shoved the astronomer through a window, given the opportunity.

"Would you believe... Milady's?" Amused at the astonished looks he received, Treville waved everyone out of the observatory. "I'm sure it would make an interesting story to hear on the way back to the palace."

++++

_Notes:_

I'm sure most of you recognized that I'm using the episode Through a Glass Darkly for this one. Aside from my own words there will be dialog from that episode woven into this.

 _Mon coeur_ \- sweetheart

 _Quote_ \- "I'm sorry, I don't take orders. I barely take suggestions! - from Aunty Acid.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_The aftermath…_

_On the way back to the Royal Palace  
_

Louis was nursing the mother of all headaches, while never losing sight of his wife and son seated directly across from him in their carriage. “So much for wanting to give you and d’Art a treat, Louis.”

“Wasn’t your fault, papa We can try for something else soon.”

A raised brow aimed at Anne indicated Louis’ surprise at his petit’s response.

Understanding her spouse’s silent message, Anne hid a smile beneath a slim hand. “Children usually bounce back from these type of situations much faster than us adults.” Observing his attempt to smile but faltering, Anne had nothing but sympathy for what all of them had endured.

“If we don’t get back to the Louvre soon,” Louis peeked out the carriage window, “I may suffer from the nervous breakdown I didn’t have at the observatory.”

“We can’t have that,” Anne chuckled. “These roads are quite uneven. Once we’re back on a more level path I’m certain our coachman will pick up the pace.”

“Mmmmm.” Closing his eyes, Louis tried to relax the rest of the journey home.

++++

_In another carriage…_

D’Artagnan stayed with Constance, instead of riding with his best friend. He didn’t know whether to worry or be amused at the change in her demeanor. Ever since Constance’s more than enthusiastic response upon discovering papa Aramis was still alive, she had become very quiet. As for papa Aramis’ part, riding abreast of their carriage, papa kept glancing through their window staring at Constance’s silent figure. “Papa, why aren’t you riding inside with us? You must be hurting terribly from that fall.”

“I’m fine, lad.” Throwing a cocky grin at his son, Aramis tried to show the boy that all was well. “Takes more than a tumble from a window to keep me out of the saddle.”

Riding up beside his brother Porthos leaned forward so he could see past Aramis to look at the kid. “Mis went an ‘urt that brain of ‘is durin’ that fall. So ‘e doesn’t ‘ave the sense ta hitch a ride in a nice, cushioned carriage when it’s offered.”

When Athos rode past them, Aramis tried to engage him into ordering Porthos away. Waving his hand at him Aramis was disappointed when all he received from the older man was a smirk quickly followed by a tip of Athos’ chapeau, as he kept on going.

While Porthos kept up a running dialog on the various body parts Aramis was going to need patched up, Aramis turned in his saddle a tad perturbed. “I just want to warn you, Porthos,” he waggled a finger at his larger brother, “that on the morrow is _National Slap an Idiot I Know Day_.” Dark eyes gleamed with mock malice at the scowl forming across Porthos’ dark features. “I’m telling you now to give you time to find a good hiding place.”

Inside the carriage d’Artagnan and Constance were laughing at the exchange going on outside.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Constance had to admit Porthos deserved that. Leaning back against the cushioned softness of the carriage, she sighed. “I can’t wait to get home.”

“We never did get to see the eclipse.” Considering everything that happened, d’Artagnan should count his blessings.

“I never want to hear that word again.” Playfully swatting the boy, she pulled a face.

"Then what shall we talk about?" Folding his arms, he too relaxed against the back of the carriage.

"How Milady killed Marmion for one thing." She had missed what Captain Treville had explained to his men, and Their Majesty's, on the astronomer's demise. Constance knew though that Athos had told d'Artagnan about it, since Athos had been with Milady when it occurred.

"Papa Athos told me that he and Milady were in a section of the building that hadn't been checked. Upon hearing footsteps they spotted Marmion racing ahead of them."

"So that's when Marmion's own fate changed," Constance murmured quietly.

"Not exactly," d'Artagnan replied with a soft snort. "Captain Roussel was waiting for Marmion at the end of the passageway that the astronomer was running toward." Remembering before d'Artagnan had entered the coach to go home how the privateer was boasting to some of the younger, more impressionable, Musketeers about scaring Marion to death, d'Artagnan smiled. "Upon seeing Captain Roussel blocking Marmion's way the astronomer turned around only to find himself at the end of Milady's pistol."

"And that's when she killed him?"

"Oui. He tried to get past her and Milady warned him not to but Marmion paid her no heed." Thinking upon it, d'Artagnan guessed it was a fitting end considering how many other unfortunates died today. "Papa Athos said it was like Marmion truly had a death wish for himself by then and simply didn't care any longer."

"He probably didn't since he lost his brother Robert." Shaking her head at the waste of it all, Constance promised herself to take time to visit the chapel to pray for all the departed souls that they may find peace.

++++

_Later at the Royal Palace - Throne room_

"Milady," beckoning the woman closer to his throne, King Louis smiled benevolently, "my coffers have become much lighter since meeting you but I cannot think of anything more fitting to bestow upon you for your bravery once again."

Curtsying, Milady then lifted her head up to meet the king's direct gaze. "Sire, I've only done what anyone else would have in my position." Her words were nearly the same as last time, when Milady had been before His Majesty. If the young monarch remembered, King Louis didn't reminder her of it.

In the back of the room stood the inseparables, with Captain Treville at their side.

Rolling his eyes at the scene being played out before him, Athos was thinking that Anne would have made a killing on the stage. She was two for two at the moment and should be sitting pretty, money-wise, for the time being now that King Louis had lined her pockets well.

Laying a large hand on his brother's shoulder, Porthos whispered, "The less ya give a damn the 'appier ya will be."

"Working on it, Porthos." Growling low in his throat, Athos continued to watch his ex-wife speak with the king.

When her audience with King Louis was over, Milady departed his company only to encounter Athos standing guard in the back. A growing smirk covered her attractive features, as she drew nearer to him. "You're welcome."

"For what?" A lone brow instantly shot upward, while Athos appeared puzzled.

"Ending Marmion for you." Realizing if she expected any type of thanks it wouldn't come from Athos, Milady turned on her heel to leave.

"Don't mind him," Aramis remarked. "He's always like that."

"Life becomes easier when you learn to accept the apology you never got." Snorting, Milady's green eyes narrowed on her ex-husband, completely ignoring the handsome one who had offered his words.

"I got a feelin' she ain't talkin' about today." His words meant for the marksman, Porthos' dark eyes followed the woman's departure. Her head was held up high, body stiff with resentment over something he and Aramis had no part in knowing and wondering if they ever would. Porthos didn't realize, until she had gone, that he breathed easier.

Pushing his chapeau back from his head, Aramis whistled low. "Oh I know she wasn't." Daring a look back at Athos' set face, he feared for the next time Milady crossed their path.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

Captain Treville had dismissed the inseparables from the palace. All of them looked forward to going home for a good night's rest. Yet Aramis had put off his visit to the infirmary. Both Porthos and Athos weren't putting up with their friend's excuses over it, even though the marksman kept denying his need to see the physician.

"Humor me, Aramis." Staring his friend down until the man began to shuffle from one foot to the other, Athos felt he had won. "Porthos and I will wait for you in the courtyard."

"Captain Roussel could keep you entertained I suppose while I'm being poked and prodded by Devereaux."

"By the heavens!" Athos exclaimed. "Hopefully Roussel continues to remain with His Majesty." They had left Captain Roussel behind still speaking with the king, and Athos didn't believe he could put up with the man's boisterous nature right now.

Watching their disgruntled friend take the stairs leading to the infirmary, both men were glad they had left their son at Constance's house.

While walking through the courtyard, they ran across several Red Guards. With a more amicable understanding between the Musketeers and the cardinal's men, it wasn't uncommon to see the red capes on Garrison grounds. But these particular ones were new and heckling other Musketeers that were at practice.

Rolling up his sleeves Porthos growled, "Think I'll teach 'em some manners."

"I will join you in that." Strolling alongside his larger friend, Athos soon found himself near the sparring section. The heckling grew louder, so much so that it hurt Athos' sensitive ears. "Pardon us," he drawled. "Are you men like this with your own comrade-in-arms?"

Not knowing whom Athos was, the taller of the three guards snickered unpleasantly. "I could take those Musketeers with one arm tied behind my back." His fellow guards laughed along with him.

"Let us see what you are made of then." Unsheathing his rapier, Athos waited for the Red Guard to do the same. Once engaged, he made short work of his opponent. The other man's face turned as red as his cape, apparently ashamed at being bested. Athos relished his victory over this loudmouthed soldier. If Cardinal Richelieu hadn't been away on business for the monarchy, Athos would have enjoyed turning this one in. Currently the guard was nursing a slight wound to his sword arm, still stunned that he had lost the match.

"If'n you're goin' ta be a smart-ass," Porthos chuckled, "first make sure you're smart. Otherwise you're just an ass."

Loud guffaws, throughout the courtyard, followed Porthos' words. Other Musketeers had gathered round to observe Athos defeat the arrogant Red Guard and were pleased to have watched the man's humiliation at the hands of an expert.

The Red Guard's companions began making grumbling noises under their breath, ready to defend the honor of one of their own. That was until Porthos stepped into their space.

"I like ta think of myself as a natural disaster, boys." Pulling out his poignard, Porthos brandished it at them. "If'n ya anger me, naturally there will be a disaster." Winking at them, he added, "I'm sure ya get my meanin'."

The Red Guard who suffered under Athos' blade asked a question he perhaps should have posed sooner. "What is your name?"

Tipping his head forward slightly, Athos' blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Forgive me for the lack of introduction." Eyes shifting toward Porthos, he refrained from laughing at his brother's amused expression. "I am simply known as _Athos_." Watching all the color leech from the guard's face caused Athos' lips to curl upward. "From your reaction I assume you have heard of me."

The Red Guard didn't appear capable of speech just then.

"There's nothing remotely _simple_ about this Musketeer," snarled one of the Red Guards to his other brothers.

"Cardinal Richelieu's going to have your head on a pike for this!" hissed another of the red capes. "Merde! Fighting with one of the inseparables!"

His tongue still tied the Red Guard in question was led, more like dragged, away by his comrades.

Observing one of the red capes smack Athos' victim up the backside of the man's head, Athos let loose with a bark of laughter quite unusual for him.

"Think that put any sense in the daft man's 'ead?"

"Porthos," having just joined them Merle's lips pursed together, while giving the larger man a knowing look, "he's a _Red Guard_... that should tell you something."

"Gentlemen," Athos pleasantly interrupted, "play nice. After all there has been a truce between our regiment and theirs for many a year."

"Yeah," Porthos grunted. "D'Art took all the fun outta fightin' them blockheads once Cardinal Richelieu befriended our runt."

Ancil hollered out from the sparring grounds just then. "Athos care to test your skill against someone that knows one end of the sword from the other?" Grinning, when Athos rolled his eyes, he was pleased to see the older man take up his offer.

"Sure you are up to this, Ancil?" Eyes crinkling up in the corners, Athos swished his blade in the air a few times. "After all I have had the chance to warm up."

"Hurry it up ya two!" yelled Porthos. "I wanna get on 'ome. Been a deuce of a long day!"

Remembering what had just gone on at the astronomer's observatory, Ancil's smile dropped. "Apologies, Athos. I should not delay you so." Even though he hadn't been part of the detail, word had spread of the horrible tragedy that took place.

"Tis fine." Saluting the younger man with his rapier, Athos was ready to engage Ancil. "We shan't be overlong."

Athos' words were uttered with such certainty, it made Ancil regret asking the older Musketeer to spar. He would have to swallow crow, when the lieutenant defeated him. Still Ancil knew he would learn much and there would be no embarrassment when he lost.

"Have I missed anything of import?" Curious as to note Ancil and Athos squaring off, Aramis wondered what had brought it about.

"Just Athos teachin' the finer points of swordplay ta an ass of a newbie Red Guard."

"Sorry I missed that part." Trying to get a better view of the match, Aramis attempted to sidestep around Porthos. His larger friend stood firm, making Aramis huff in annoyance. 

"Doc let ya go mighty fast." Planting himself directly in front of the marksman, Porthos wasn't going to budge.

"I wasn't badly hurt, Dieu merci." Crossing himself, Aramis smiled slyly. "It didn't hurt that I charmed the docteur into releasing me with a promise to not overtax myself for the rest of the week."

" _Charmed_ 'im, eh?" Knowing Aramis could charm birds out of the trees, and women out of their clothes, Porthos guessed it could work on physicians just as well.

While other Musketeers observed the brief sparring session with enjoyment, all of them applauded Athos and Ancil when it was finished. The match had been well balanced as Ancil was nearly Athos' equal in height and build. Even though the lieutenant had won, the younger man had no reason to be upset as Ancil gave as good as he got.

"Well met," Athos dipped his head. "Twas a splendid workout, Ancil." A congratulatory slap to the younger Musketeer's back accompanied Athos' approval of the other's skill. "My thanks."

Breathing hard Ancil acknowledged the older man's words with a wide grin, before several of his friends converged upon him.

Noting Aramis' appearance so soon, Athos stared at him questionably. "You have been released already?" He shouldn't have been surprised at this.

"'E _charmed_ the doc." Throwing that at his brother, Porthos shook his head.

Athos didn't care to know what lay behind Porthos' remark, for the moment. No doubt Devereaux would fill him in later. "I for one would like to depart now to pick up d'Art. I pray that Constance's frayed nerves have had time to calm somewhat." Walking toward the stables, Athos admitted something to his brothers he was having a hard time dealing with. "I find myself on edge over all that had taken place today and I was not even there for most of it. So I can only imagine what our son and Constance are feeling."

A warm flush slowly stole over Aramis' face, at the thought of that shared kiss with Constance. He was most curious to know what she felt at the time and if it matched his own feelings. Out of harm's way, for now, Aramis expected their next meeting would end up with his face smarting from one of Constance's well aimed slaps. Oddly enough that brought a silly grin to his features. He never was one for settling down with one woman. Having been down that fraught-filled road with Constance once before, Aramis was surprised to discover himself thinking upon it again. Must be old age creeping up, along with the knowledge that today could have been his last.

++++

 _Quote: “I just want to warn you that tomorrow is National Slap An Idiot I Know Day. I’m telling you now to give you time to find a good hiding place.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "The less you give a damn, the happier you will be."_ from Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "Life becomes easier when you learn to accept the apology you never got."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "If you're going to be a smart-ass, first make sure you'r smart. Otherwise you're just an ass."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I like to think of myself as a natural disaster. If you anger me, naturally there will be a disaster."_ from Aunty Acid.

 _Dieu merci_ \- Thank God.

 _Docteur_ -  Doctor


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, late afternoon – Constance’s home_

Having come to collect their son, the inseparables tethered their horses to the low branches of one of the trees lining their friend’s house.

Just as Aramis was about to knock upon the door it opened wide. Removing his chapeau he smiled into Constance’s pretty face, before taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss upon it.

“Think Mis is courtin’ ‘er agin’.” Whispering to Athos, Porthos didn’t know whether or not this would be a good thing or another mistake on his brother’s part. She had been hurt once before, when Aramis decided variety was still the spice of life.

Oh Porthos knew his friend’s faults were many, just like his own and Athos' were. Having been through thick and thin with the marksman, he had seen Aramis at his best and at his worst. Not just fighting for king and country either. The stories Porthos could rattle off about Aramis’ conquests could fill a very thick book. Thing was though that as much as he loved his brother, if the man hurt Constance again, Porthos just may not forgive him this time as he did the last.

“Tis none of our business if Aramis has decided to change the course of his life once more.” Speaking just as low as the larger man, Athos observed Constance’s reaction to Aramis’ chivalrous gesture. A smirk touched his lips, while watching the young woman tug her hand free only to turn around and slap Aramis’ stunned face. All things considered, this was how it should be or so Athos thought. Not that getting one's face slapped was something to look forward to viewing. It's just that after everything that transpired today Constance's _slap_ just made things appear more normal, at least for Athos. Listening to Porthos’ loud snort, he assumed his large brother also enjoyed watching things go back to the way they used to be.

Rubbing his smarting left cheek, Aramis tried for a smile. “May I ask what that was for?”

Shaking out her hand, Constance glared up into her handsome friend’s features. Considering what she had just done, Aramis appeared rather amused at her action instead of being upset. It did take a lot for him to get angry, especially with her. “I still haven’t totally recovered from you scaring the life out of me back at Marmion’s observatory.”

“And for that I received a slap to the face?” Quirking a brow upward, Aramis’ lips pursed. If he lived to be one hundred, Aramis still wouldn’t understand the workings of a woman’s mind. This one in particular. Ah, bien, it gave him something to look forward too. “Mmmmm,” Aramis hummed, still rubbing his sore face. "How long do you believe it shall take you to _recover_?”

“Hmmmpf!” Turning away from him, she welcomed the other men into her home. “Come on in. Don’t just stand there gathering dirt under your boots to mess up my carpet."

Looking at each other, Athos and Porthos simply shrugged and did as Constance bid. When spotting their son standing off to the side, not trying very hard to contain his mirth at the scene that had just played out, they went over to the lad.

“Ready ta get on 'ome, runt?” Squeezing the back of d’Artagnan’s neck, Porthos’ face reflected the inner turmoil he had personally gone through due to that lunatic Marmion.

“Oui.” Scooting closer to papa Porthos, d’Artagnan tugged on papa’s arm and did the same to papa Athos. “Do you believe he's serious this time?”

Pretending he didn’t know what the boy was on about, Athos gave the youngster a blank look. He almost changed his mind upon giving d’Artagnan his own opinion on the matter, when the child made a disgusted sound.

“Papa Porthos, what do you think?” Not about to give up, d’Artagnan figured one of them would have an idea about it.

“Kid,” Porthos grinned, “Aramis will always be Aramis.”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” d’Artagnan retorted.

“Meanin’ that none of us knows what goes through ‘is mind at any givin’ time.” That was all Porthos could think up to satisfy the whelp.

“Unpredictable describes Aramis to a 'T'. Tis what he always had been, d'Art." Offering up the only thing he could, Athos hoped that settled the matter in his son’s mind for the time being at least. “Come along now.” Wrapping an arm around the lad’s shoulder, Athos steered him toward the door. “You can ride double with me since Tempest is back at our house.”

“Comin’, Mis?” Noting that it looked like Aramis was in a deep conversation with Constance, Porthos glanced at Athos. His older brother shook his head then indicated that he and d’Artagnan were going outside. Muttering under his breath, Porthos followed them.

Noting everyone leaving the two of them alone, Constance drew away from Aramis. “So you want to pick up where we left off all those years ago then?” Folding her arms, she stared at him with unblinking eyes.

“When you put it that way it does make me sound rather crass,” Aramis admitted.

“If the shoe fits,” she shot back, watching his face contort into a grimace.

“I deserved that one and more.” Dipping his head toward her it was then that Aramis was struck by the silence surrounding them. Glancing about the room, he noted d’Artagnan was gone along with Athos and Porthos. “It appears they thought we wanted to be alone.”

“I wonder what gave them that idea?” Nearly snapping the man’s head off, Constance refrained from uttering something else. She didn’t know why she was acting this way with him. The good Lord only knew how happy she was that Aramis survived that horrible fall. It was just the way his words had come across making Constance feel like Aramis had taken it for granted that she had been pining away for him, just waiting for an opportunity to get back together. _In a pig’s eye!_

"I assure you I only have the most honorable of intentions toward you, Constance."

"Just like you had last time." Turning away from him, she added softly, "Look where that left us."

"I was a different man back then," he huffed. "You must see that surely."

Swirling back around, Constance briefly gave him the once over. "I see the same man but only _older_ and a tad more _greyer_ around the temples."

Sensitive about his looks, Aramis gingerly touched his hair. "All of these can be laid at d'Art's feet." Ah, he noted a smile hover about her lips. "Ma chere, if that fall I took taught me anything tis that life is a precious commodity and shouldn't be wasted."

"All because of that kiss I gave you?"

"You made it sound as if it were a bad thing." He truly didn't understand what was going on it that mind of hers.

"If you want the truth, Aramis," Constance hesitated for a second, "I don't know if I could trust my heart to you again."

"We'll start over and take it slow." He crossed his own heart. "I promise."

"Give me some time to think upon it, Aramis."

Placing his hands upon her shoulders, he drew her in closer to place a soft kiss upon her forehead. "I trust you to inform me when you've reached a decision." Raising a brow, Aramis smiled. "One way or the other."

Biting her lip, Constance nodded her head. "Now you better get going. I'm sure after the day we've all had d'Art's eager for home."

"Sounds like you're the one eager to get rid of me." Rolling his eyes upon her giggles, Aramis tapped a finger upon her nose. "Alas, my seductive powers must be slipping."

Outright laughing now, she responded. "Something's _slipping_ all right."

Doing a double take at her, Aramis scowled. "You're mind must be a scary place to be in," he clucked. Putting his chapeau back on, he bid her goodbye. "Au revoir." So doing as Constance suggested, Aramis joined his family that were waiting for him.

++++

_Inseparable's residence_

"Feels good ta be 'ome," shooting Aramis a long look, Porthos smirked, "finally."

Knowing to what his friend referred, Aramis didn't bother replying.

Removing his doublet, Porthos threw it over one of the chairs. "Yup," he went to pour himself a large, well earned, glass of wine, "It's been one of those, too much shit - not enough shovels kinda days."

Raising his own glass of wine in the air, Athos dipped his head agreeing with his brother. "I could not have phrased today any better than that."

Relaxing on the sofa Aramis discovered that someone had missed him. Jumping up to sit upon his lap, Alex quietly mewed her welcome. They remained that way for a time, until he began to chuckle.

"What's so funny, Mis?"

Brushing off some of Alex's orange fur from his clothing, Aramis' dark eyes still registered amusement. "Home is where the cat hairs stick to everything... except the cat."

"It's your turn anyway." His gruff laughter filling the room Porthos said, "Last time it was me."

"I'm going to bed." Hugging each of his papas, d'Artagnan plucked his pet from her settled perch and carried Alex off to his room.

"We should follow d'Art's example and all turn in as well," Athos suggested.

"Oui," Aramis agreed. "We will need to rise and shine early on the morrow."

"I can rise an' shine," Porthos remarked. "But not at the same time." Both his friends laughed at his quip, while heading for their respective rooms. Stretching arms over his head, a huge yawn escaped him. So after he snuffed out all the candles, Porthos retired to his room as well.

++++

_Next day, mid-morning – Pinon_

“Papa, what are we going to do about Baron Renard?” Arms crossed, Jeanne paced back and forth across the wooden floorboards of the inn.

Bertrand’s weary head hung down, not able to meet his daughter’s furious gaze. For months she had been on about Renard’s treatment of nearly everyone that lived in Pinon. If only the Comte de la Fere would respond to the many letters they had sent to him. It may have given the townspeople a bit of hope.

“We have to do something?” Jeanne said desperately. Wringing her hands, she wished they could be wrapped around the baron’s throat or that of his disgraceful son. “Lately Edmond’s been giving me looks I could do without.”

More news of concern that Bertrand had to deal with. Edmond was a spoiled, lazy young man thinking that all he had to do was crook a finger at any woman and she’d fall at his feet. Not his Jeanne. He picked the wrong one if Edmond thought she’d be an easy conquest. Worries upon more worries and Bertrand didn’t know how to deal with it all.

Unofficially Bertrand had somehow become the leader of the people of Pinon since their Comte, more or less, abandoned them all after the man's divorce. The families that remained in the area still worked the land and paid their rent to the Comte but the man hadn’t bothered himself with coming back. Of course Bertrand could sympathize, up to a point, considering the estate now was all but a ruined husk of its former glory after the fire that consumed it.

“Why don’t we visit the Garrison and drag Monsieur Comte de la Fere back here, kicking and screaming if we have to," she snorted. Then make him face up to the baron for us?” Papa, it seemed, had no words of encouragement to offer her. Instead, Jeanne became frustrated when he began to sweep the floor. “Papa?”

“I heard you the first time,” Bertrand grumbled. “I ask you, Jeanne, how do we accomplish that miracle? He is a Musketeer now and I would assume quite a formidable one at that."

“I remember you telling me once that the Comte had an adopted son." Trying to think upon how to make use of that fact, she started spouting off ideas.

Continuing on with his sweeping, Bertrand listened to his daughter with half an ear. As Jeanne kept at him, he discarded the broom. "The lad would be about twelve years of age now." Scratching his head Bertrand stared at her, puzzled where this was going. "But how does the boy have anything to do with bringing the Comte back home?"

Snapping her fingers, Jeanne was filled with excitement. "I've got an idea!"

++++

_Back to Paris..._

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

Tossing a letter upon his desk Treville pushed it forward, with the tip of his finger, toward Athos who was standing beside his desk.

Frowning down at it, Athos sighed. "Not another one?"

"It could be their rent payments." Judging by the displeased look crossing the younger man's features, Treville guessed that the missive didn't contain money.

"The last dozen or so Bertrand sent me had to do with wanting my return to Pinon." Shoving the letter inside his doublet without reading it, Athos was about to leave but Treville's words stopped him.

"I could grant you leave if you need it, Athos."

"My thanks for the generous offer, sir, but nothing is going to induce me to ever go back there."

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me." Smiling into the blue eyes that rolled back at him, Treville sent his lieutenant on his way.

++++

_Notes:_

Yes, mes amies, this time I'm weaving in season two’s “The Return”. There also will be some dialog from that ep. involved in my story as well.

 _Quote: "Yup... It's been one of those, 'Too much shit - not enough shovels' kinda days."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Home is where the cat hairs stick to everything... except the cat."_ \- from Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "I can rise and shine. But not at the same time."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone that celebrates the holiday enjoys Memorial Day!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Still same day, noonish hour - Pinon_

"If we do this, Jeanne, the Comte may very well shoot us before we could ever explain to him why such drastic measures were taken." Passing a hand through his hair, Bertrand's eyes remained fixed on his determined daughter.

"I already have four volunteers coming along with me, papa." While papa had briefly left the inn to check on some things, Jeanne had taken the opportunity to gather some friends together. They also were heartily sick and tired of the way everyone's been living under Renard's thumb. Right now they were throwing things Jeanne needed into one of their wagons.

"Paris is only a day's ride from here." Holding a coil of rope in her hands, she walked past papa toward the exit. "If we leave now we should get there about noon on the morrow."

"I fear this is the wrong way to go about it." Knowing nothing he said would sway his Jeanne from this course of action, Bertrand refrained from saying anything further on the matter. "Promise me you'll be careful on the roads to Paris. You know as well as I that most of the time they're not the safest to travel."

"Tis why I have Darley, Henry and Tumas coming along," Jeanne stood on tiptoes to place a kiss upon papa's weathered cheek. "The men should be protection enough plus Mabella has joined us as well. She's even a better shot than the men." Noting worry lines growing deeper across papa's forehead, Jeanne also placed another kiss there. "This will work."

Holding his daughter's last three words close to his heart, Bertrand murmured some long ago forgotten prayer that the Comte wouldn't want to turn them all over to the captain of the Musketeers when this was over.

++++

_Mid afternoon - Royal Palace_

"So you're going to be leaving us shortly, Captain?"

"Oui, d'Art." Throwing an arm around the lad, Roussel laughed deeply. "I'd still like to whisk you away and make you my cabin boy." Smiling sadly, he ruffled the youth's hair. "Tis only a pipe dream I'm afraid."

Gazing down at young Louis, who was quietly walking beside them, d'Artagnan knew what his best friend was about to say even before Louis had uttered it.

"What about me?" piped up Louis. "I want to be your cabin boy!"

"Louis," d'Artagnan chided gently, "we've covered this before." It was at times like these when it felt like he and Louis shared the same blood, with d'Artagnan being the older brother chastising the younger one.

"I don't care!" Stomping his feet, Louis felt like throwing a fit. Much like one he recently saw papa having again after leaving the throne room, while the cardinal silently followed close behind.

"His Majesty would come up with a colorful way to do me in if I ever took you with me, lad." Pulling a comical face, Roussel added, "Especially where I'm taking the Le Corsaire Rouge."

"China." Almost wishing he could sail with the privateer, d'Artagnan realized where his heart truly belonged. "I hope you have calm seas on your journey there and back again."

"Tell you what, lads," winking at the youngsters, Roussel rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I'll bring you both back something exotic from my voyage."

"Merci, Captain. I shall look forward to it." Louis couldn't wait to see what his promised gift would be from that far off land, having only read about China in history books.

"I know the Dauphin here won't be allowed to see me off." His arm still grasping the young Gascon's shoulder, Roussel squeezed it gently. "But d'Art you're allowed safe access to the Court."

"Just let me know when you'll be setting sail, Captain." Holding up a finger, d'Artagnan chuckled lightly. "Fair warning though that I won't be alone."

"Athos wouldn't trust me not to steal you away," Roussel grunted. "Actually I already guessed he'd be coming with you. I would have been shocked otherwise." Gazing about him, he heaved a heavy sigh. "I'll miss the splendor of the palace but the sea calls out to me. Tis in my veins." Hearing the rustle of skirts, Roussel grinned broadly upon gazing the beautiful vision coming toward them.

"Oh! We meet again, Captain Roussel." Ruby red lips smiled demurely at the large seaman. Her green eyes sparkling, Milady said, "You've become quite a fixture around here."

"And you, Madame, are a most formidable woman," Roussel countered, with no small amount of interest in her.

Correctly interpreting some silent communication going on between the two adults d'Artagnan huffed, rolling his eyes. " _Captain_ , you'll soon be leaving... _remember_?"

"Aye, d'Art, I am at that." Bowing to her, Roussel sorrowfully gazed into the woman's lovely face. "Shame I'll be gone awhile on my voyage," he grimaced. "I'm quite sure you'll be snapped up by someone in no time without my presence around to deter them elsewhere."

Eyebrows shooting up, Milady gayly laughed. "There was a compliment hidden in there somewhere I think."

"Captain Roussel is traveling to China for my papa." Happily announcing the upcoming voyage, Louis rocked back and forth on his feet. "He promised to bring us something exotic back."

"Could I beg a trinket as well?" Coquettishly gazing up at Roussel from underneath her long lashes, Milady used her looks to full advantage.

"I note you're adding up livres right now on the amount you could get for whatever I bring you, judging by the sparkle in those green gems of yours, ma chere." When Milady pouted prettily, Roussel chuckled. "Tres bien, you shall have some bauble or other to add to your collection or to do with as you will."

Clearly pleased by the captain's response, she dipped her head. "Then I shall wish you bonne chance on a most prosperous trip."

At her departure Roussel stroked his beard, while keeping her in view. "Wish I knew what made Milady tick."

Having not gotten very far, Milady heard the privateer's softly spoken words. Turning back around, she gazed right into Roussel's surprised features. He probably thought she hadn't heard him. "Don't bother trying to figure me out. You'll just end up exhausting yourself." Grinning to herself Milady continued on her way, listening to the seaman's rough laughter ringing out behind her.

"That's some woman." Slapping his thigh, Roussel really hoped she wouldn't have found a beau for herself by the time he returned.

"She's also a voleuse along with being a murderess." D'Artagnan spoke low enough so that Louis wouldn't hear him. Knowing his friend had already put Milady on a pedestal of sorts, he didn't want to be responsible for making it crumble apart if Louis ever discovered her past history.

"I heard tell that she used to be married to Athos." Speaking in the same hushed tones as d'Artagnan, Roussel was naturally curious over the marriage. "What you mentioned about her, were those the reasons why you're père cast Milady aside?"

"Oui," d'Art bit out. "She lied and hid her brand from him."

"Tis not like I don't know how to deal with malandrins, canailles and voleurs, in my line of work all the time." Dark eyes gleaming, Roussel's lips curled upward. "I believe Milady and I would do well together."

"I don't know if _you're_ her type." Sarcasm dripped from d'Artagnan's voice. "Plus do you really want to end the tenuous truce you've established with papa Athos?"

"Mmmmmm, you do make a good point." Shrugging a shoulder, Roussel let out a long breath. "Ah, quel dommage." Rubbing his hands together, Roussel threw a quick wink at the boys. "Now, children, I have other fish to fry. So I shall see you both later."

After the captain left them, Louis grabbed d'Art's hand. "Clarisse told me that Chef Morin was having her bake eclairs today." Patting his stomach, he licked his lips. "What say you to taking a few for ourselves."

Clarisse was one of the pastry chefs for the palace. She would always make extra sweets just in case d'Artagnan and Louis would magically appear in the palace kitchen. Spoiled as they both were by the entire kitchen staff, twas a wonder neither of them gained an ounce of weight. "Perhaps there may be some fresh croissants awaiting us too, Louis."

Preparing to lay siege to the desserts, they took off down the long corridor leading to Chef Morin's domain.

++++

_Shortly later - Garrison courtyard_

"What are _you_ doing here?" Shocked once again upon finding himself in the company of his former wife, Athos' grim countenance spoke volumes to anyone in his vicinity. What he didn't realize, at the time, was that the missive in the pocket of his doublet was on the verge of falling out.

"Slumming of course." Rolling her eyes, Milady sauntered past him. When a letter floated down to the ground, near her feet, she bent to pick it up. Athos quickly snatched it from her fingers, before she could even read it, but Milady had caught enough to see where it had been sent from. " _Pinon_." Tilting her head to one side, she studied Athos closely. "Still keeping in touch with your tenants?"

"None of your business, Anne."

"I thought that was the reason you turned into a soldier," she said. "To cast off your past."

"I repeat... _tis... none... of... your... concern_."

"You're hiding something." Smirking, Milady always could tell when Athos was lying. "After all I'm only your ex-wife so you could tell me anything."

"I do not want this to escalate into an argument." Glancing about him, he could see many a curious eye turned their way.

"Oh really," she scoffed. "A woman has the last word in any argument, Athos. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument."

Steam would have been rising from his ears if it were possible. The woman was irritation personified, all wrapped up in one deceitful package. Stomping away from her, Athos could hear Anne's soft laughter chasing him.

Once Athos disappeared, Anne was still curious as to the nature of that missive and what part he played into it. Continuing on her leisurely stroll Anne heard a deep, booming voice carry over to where she was.

" _Fine!_ " Porthos barked at Baptiste. "We'll compromise." Disgusted with being told he had to clean the weapons in the armory, Porthos took it out on the younger Musketeer. "I'll get my way and you can find a way to deal with that!"

Bemused at Porthos' anger with him, Baptiste hadn't moved from his position near the stables.

"I assume it was something _you_ said," Milady mused out loud to the hapless Musketeer.

"I'm not sure exactly what happened." Giving her a shy smile, Baptiste explained. "I only told Porthos the duty Captain Treville assigned him for today."

Amused, Milady remarked, "What you've no doubt experienced has a name. Tis called ... _don't shoot the messenger_."

Laughing, along with her, Baptiste had to agree with Milady's assessment. "Next time I'll tell the captain to send Aramis." Speaking of the marksman Baptiste listened into an exchange between Aramis and Porthos, with something akin to dismay.

++++

" _You're not speaking to me anymore? Really?_ " Aramis yelled at his brother's back. " _Do you promise?_ "

Growling low, Porthos turned around shaking a fist at his friend. " _I'm not arguin'! I'm simply explainin' why I'm right!_ "

++++

"Oh my." Lips twitching, Milady glanced at the young Musketeer rooted to the spot. "What was that you said a few moments ago about sending Aramis?"

"Perhaps I was a tad hasty." Dipping his head before he left her, Baptiste went straight over to Aramis. "Dare I ask what the trouble is?"

"Porthos is being an ass over Treville's orders for him." Shoving his chapeau back from his head, Aramis clucked ruefully. "I was only teasing him. Guess I better go apologize."

"Remember to duck first," Baptiste offered with a wide grin spreading over his face.

++++

_Late in the day - Inseparable's residence_

Noting the disagreeable looks being thrown at papa Aramis, d'Artagnan was confused as to the why of it. Every time papa tried to speak, papa Porthos would sharply snap at him. Gradually it became a near shouting match that started to hurt d'Artagnan's ears. Even poor Alex, curled up around his feet, had her head buried.

"Have they been like that since coming back from the Garrison?" Casually leaning against the wall, appearing for all the world quite relaxed, Athos had arrived home half an hour later than his brothers.

"Oui and I don't know the reason for it, papa."

"What happens at work stays there and we do not bring it into our home." Observing the dark looks Porthos kept giving Aramis, Athos knew it couldn't go on. Walking over to his younger friend Athos tapped Aramis on the shoulder. "Care to explain to me why you both sound like fish wives?"

"I opened my mouth one too many times," Aramis admitted. "Porthos did not appreciate my attempt at humor when Captain Treville assigned him duty at the armory." Scratching his beard, Aramis then chuckled sadly. "Blessed are we who can laugh at ourselves. For we will never cease to be amused."

"I ain't in the mood ta laugh at myself, Mis."

Performing a theatrical bow toward Porthos, Aramis' eyes sparkled with an impish light. "Everyone needs a smart-assed friend. I'm so happy to be of service to you, mon frere."

"Go jump in the Seine," Porthos shot back, still not amused. "Ya know why I'm really pissed?" Not bothering to let Aramis get a word in edgewise, he carried on, "Captin' told me that it was ya that told 'im I 'adn't done armory duty yet."

"What was I to do when he asked me for the next person on the rotation roster for it?"

"Would you both stop bickering." Glowering at the other two men, Athos had had enough and so apparently had d'Artagnan who left to go outside. "I believe you have now upset our son." Walking out onto the porch Athos scanned the area. Spotting the boy playing with Alex near the barn, he joined them.

Feeling a presence behind him, d'Artagnan sighed. "Has a truce been declared yet? Or are they still at war?"

"I am not sure which one of them will wave the white flag." Chuckling lightly at his own jest, Athos squatted down beside the lad.

Papa's tone was just shy of being sardonic. The oh so dry voice, and delivery behind the words, brought out a shy answering smile from d'Artagnan. "Perhaps we should go back in shouting - _cease fire_."

Slapping the child on the back, Athos nodded in full agreement. "Or instead we could send Alex in first. If she comes running back outside we shall know a truce has not taken place."

"Or perhaps neither of our suggestions." Jerking his head toward the direction of their home, d'Artagnan indicated for papa  to take a look over his shoulder.

Two sheepish figures emerged from the house walking slowly toward Athos and d'Artagnan. The bigger of the two kept bumping shoulders with the younger one.

"All is forgiven then?" quizzed Athos.

"It ain't Mis' fault," Porthos told him. "Took me a time ta admit that ta myself." Taking in his silent son, he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Runt, I hope ya know 'ow sorry I am for upsettin' ya with my pettiness." No sooner had Porthos apologized when he found himself engulfed in a loving hug from d'Artagnan.

"Can we eat now?"

At their boy's question, the inseparables groaned realizing that dinner had yet to be prepared. All of them began talking at once, trying to decide upon what to make. Eventually, coming to a unanimous decision, it was a happy foursome that re-entered their home.

++++

_Next day, around noon - in the city of Paris_

"Darley and Henry will come with me," Jeanne said. "Mabella, you and Tumas both remain here." She was helped down from the wagon by Darley. Jumping from the back of it was Henry, who was anxious to get the job done and be away from the city as fast as they could. Gazing up at her other two friends she was leaving behind, their anxious expressions caused a slight smile to touch Jeanne's lips. "Take heart. I won't be coming back empty-handed."

++++

_Notes:_

_Tres bien_ \- very well  
_Bonne chance_ \- good luck  
_Voleuse_ \- female thief / _Voleurs_ \- thieves  
_Malandrin_ s - brigands / _Canailles_ \- scoundrels  
_Quel dommage_ \- what a shame

 _Quote: "A woman has the last word in any argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Fine! We'll compromise. I'll get my way and you can find a way to deal with that!"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "You're not speaking to me anymore? Really? Do you promise?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I'm not arguing! I'm simply explaining why I'm right!"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Blessed are we who can laugh at ourselves. For we will never cease to be amused."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Everyone needs a smart-assed friend. I'm so happy to be of service to you."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Shortly after their arrival in Paris_

It felt like wasted time to Jeanne. With Darley and Henry as her guards, she had discreetly been making inquiries about her intended target. Making short stops in several stores, as well as talking to people who were out and about enjoying their day, Jeanne only gathered a smidgen of information. “I think the only way to find out definitely what I need to know is to talk to some Musketeers.”

“Isn’t that a bit risky, Jeanne?” Exchanging a worried glance with Henry, Darley looked down at the young woman.

“Life is risky,” she countered. “If we don’t do this Baron Renard will have won already. We might as well just lie down on the ground for the man to walk all over.”

“She’s feisty when Jeanne gets all riled up,” Henry chuckled.

“If you find our situation so amusing, Henry,” Jeanne glared at her friend, “perhaps you won’t mind being one of the baron’s minions.”

“Ah, I was just teasing you, girl.” The amusement Henry felt, but a moment ago, faded away upon Jeanne’s earnestness in continuing their hunt. “But if tis Musketeers you want to speak with,” he pointed across the street, “there goes two of them now.”

No time like the present for stepping in where angels fear to tread. Gathering her skirts together, head lifted high, Jeanne crossed over to where the soldiers stood. “Pardon me, Messieurs, but could either of you point me in the general direction of the Comte de la Fere’s home?”

Eustis didn’t recognize that name, nor did his companion Dufort. “We’re sorry we can’t be more informative but we’re not familiar with that gentleman.”

Realizing that the Comte could very well have not let his brothers-in-arms know about his heritage, Jeanne was then unsure how to proceed. Aside from knowing that her father sent the Comte the tenant’s rent, in care of the Garrison, she had no idea what name the man was hiding under. Jeanne decided that perhaps she should question someone other than Musketeers, for she didn’t want to end up unmasking the Comte’s true identity to them. “My thanks anyway.”

After the Musketeers departed, she glanced at Darley and Henry then back toward the tavern they stood in front of. "Papa would have a fit if I went in here so Henry, you and Darley go into the tavern and ask around which Musketeer has a son that goes by the name of d'Artagnan." Grabbing hold of Darley's arm she placed a few coins in his palm. "See if that loosens any tongues. Just remember to not talk with any soldiers about it."

"Where will you be, Jeanne?" Concerned about her being alone, without them to protect her, Henry's brows drew together.

"Oh don't worry so, Henry," she laughed. "I can take care of myself for the few minutes it will take you both to ask questions. But if it puts your mind at ease I'll be across the street waiting."

Jiggling the money in his hand, Darley paused before going into The Wren. "Jeanne, you sure about us doing this?"

"As sure as I can be about anything right now." Shooing both men away, she waited until the streets were clear and crossed to the other side.

++++

_Nearly a half an hour later..._

"Took you, boys, long enough." Crossing her arms, Jeanne hoped their time was spent wisely.

"Considering the hour, that placed was packed," Darley said, surprise in his voice. "Some patrons were all ready well on their way to being drunk."

"Still, drunk or not, were either of you able to find out anything useful?" Drawing her shawl about her shoulders, Jeanne impatiently waited for her friends to tell her what she needed to hear to pull this off.

Leaning against a post, Henry smiled into her anxious face. "A Musketeer by the name of Athos has a son everyone calls d'Art."

"Short for _d'Artagnan_ ," added Darley with a smirk.

"In fact the lad has three pères." Glancing over at Darley, who was now chuckling, Henry then caught the astonished expression crossing Jeanne's face. Ticking the names off his fingers he said, " _Athos... Aramis... Porthos._ "

A hand covered her mouth, while Jeanne recovered from shock. Even living in Pinon, she had heard of the inseparables. Not planning on hearing such unsettling news, she collected her wits about her. This bump in the road would not prevent her from following through with her plans. "What else did you learn?"

"D'Artagnan is quite close with Their Majestys and the lad's best friend is the Dauphin." Watching Jeanne's face fall at what he had just imparted, Darley wondered if she would change her mind, give up and go back home. Then again noting how stubborn she could get, he figured they'd still be risking their collective necks.

"Anything more that I could use?" Jeanne's mind was going off in different directions, thinking upon what to do next. Admitting to herself that the information gathered was weakening her resolve to continue with her crazy scheme, she would then remember Baron Renard's treatment of them along with his slimy batard of a son.

"Where would the boy be right now? Did anyone say?" Tapping her lip with a finger, she stabbed each man with an impatient glare.

"The lad has school with the Dauphin at the Royal Palace," Henry supplied. "D'Artagnan then spends some time there afterwards."

Snapping her fingers, Jeanne took both her friends by the arm leading them back to where they left the wagon.

"When she gets that look in her eyes..." Sighing, Darley glanced sideways at Henry.

"Usually spells trouble for the rest f us." Finishing the other man's thoughts for him, Henry ruefully shook his head while still being pulled by Jeanne.

Reaching the wagon, Jeanne told Mabella what she needed. Quickly, she wrote down a message handing it off to Tumas. "Unhitch one of the horses and go deliver this to the palace."

"The _Royal Palace_?" Swallowing hard, Tumas thought he heard wrongly.

"There's only one in Paris that I know of!" Snapping at him, rolling her eyes, Jeanne shoved Tumas toward the horses.

++++

_Royal Palace_

While playing croquet, on the lawn just outside of the Royal Gardens, d'Artagnan's and young Louis' fun was interrupted.

Since it was Rene's turn for palace duty, he had the privilege of giving the missive that was recently delivered to d'Artagnan. Observing the lad's reaction upon reading it, Rene figured it wasn't good news. "Is everything all right?"

"Papa Athos was hurt while patrolling in town."

"Then he'd be at the Garrison infirmary by now." Hoping that Athos' injury wasn't serious, Rene tried not to appear worried for the young Gascon's sake.

"Non," d'Artagnan shook his head. "Because of papa's wound they were afraid to take the time to get him back to the Garrison. So he's being tended by the local physician."

"Then you best go, d'Art." Praying for a good outcome for their lieutenant, Rene went back to duty inside the palace.

More upset over the news about Athos than not finishing their game, Louis understood that his best friend had to leave. "Let me know how he's doing when you can, d'Art."

"I will, Louis. Right now I better get Tempest and ride into town." In his haste, and concern over papa, d'Artagnan hadn't bothered to think upon why neither of his other papas had come themselves with the news.

++++

_Shortly after, back in the city - in front of Docteur Gauthier's office_

It seemed Jeanne's plan had actually worked. For upon noting a young Gascon boy riding up to the physician's office, she knew it had to have been d'Artagnan. "Darley, you and Henry know what to do."

++++

After tethering Tempest to a post, thoughts of papa uppermost on his mind, d'Artagnan didn't pay attention to the men approaching him from behind. When he did it was too late. A pistol in his back brought him up short.

"Now, lad, don't give us any trouble and everything will be fine." Trying to make his voice sound rougher than it was, hoping to sound quite menacing, Henry grimaced earning him a poke in the ribs from Darley. Of course it was all a bluff but the boy wouldn't know that. Neither of them would harm a hair on the lad's head.

“My papa’s been hurt,” d’Artagnan told them. “I need to see how badly injured he is.”

“Boy, that was just a ruse to get you to come to us.” When the lad turned around to face them, Darley noted the kid had turned pale. “Now like my friend said, if you don’t give us any trouble we won’t give you any either.”

Herding d’Artagnan back to their wagon they quickly got the young Gascon in the back of it. Making fast work of tying the lad’s wrists together they then made him lie down and covered him up with a blanket, so as not to garner attention on the way out of the city. The five of them kept their silence until they were well clear of Paris. It was then that Henry whisked the blanket off d'Artagnan.

Blinking his eyes a few times, letting his eyesight adjust to the change in light, d’Artagnan noted everyone in the wagon stared at him with a look of apprehension in their eyes. If anyone had reason to be apprehensive it would have been him. “May I be allowed to ask why you have kidnapped me?”

Sitting up front with Mabella and Tumas, Jeanne turned her head slightly to gaze down upon the boy. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. More like we’ve _borrowed_ you for a time.”

Snorting softly d'Artagnan remarked, "Sounds like something papa Aramis would say."

“Might as well tell him.” Leaning over her shoulder, Darley gave a light nudge to Jeanne’s back.

Climbing into the back of the wagon, she sat beside d’Artagnan. Picking out a few strands of hay from the lad's hair, that had come from the blanket which had covered him, Jeanne tried for a more gentler approach now that they had Athos' son as their captive. After introducing everyone, it took a time to explain everything that had befallen her town since the Comte had left them.

When Jeanne had gotten to the part that involved the baron and Edmond, it was then that d’Artagnan voiced an opinion. “I shall help you.” Holding out his wrists, he worked his puppy dog eyes on her. “If you would remove these bindings from me my circulation would appreciate it.”

Not sure if she could trust d’Artagnan not to jump out of the wagon and run for help, there was something in the youth's brown orbs that made Jeanne obey him. Mumbling under her breath, her voice then grew louder. “This shouldn’t have been made so tight.” Feeling herself gently pushed to the side, Henry took over.

“Sorry, lad, but we were in a rush when we did this.” Finally getting the ropes undone Henry handed them to Darley.

"From the little papa Athos divulged of his life in Pinon you're correct that he would never willingly go back home." Without Jeanne coming right out and saying so d'Artagnan assumed she was the one in charge, since her companions all looked to her for how to proceed. "Since you now have me was I supposed to be the lure to get papa to Pinon?"

Nodding her head Jeanne said, "I've already written the letter and paid someone to deliver it to the Comte early this eve."

"With us continuing straight on to Pinon without stopping we won't be worried that anyone would be able to catch up to us." Patting d'Artagnan on the shoulder, Darley climbed up front to site with the others.

"Papa should have read your letters you had sent him. I'm sorry he didn't for what it's worth." D'Artagnan was ashamed of papa Athos ignoring his tenants in this way. "Once he finds out you've taken me to Pinon nothing would hold him back from coming for me."

"We're all counting on that, d'Artagnan." Clasping her hands tightly in her lap, Jeanne stared out at the landscaped as it passed them by.

++++

_Late afternoon - back at the Garrison_

"Porthos, mon ami!" Hailing the large man, Aramis wondered at the sour expression on the other's face. It wasn't so long ago that he had just left his brother's side either. "What troubles have you found now?"

"Someone just called me _normal_..." Porthos griped. "I have never been so insulted in my entire life."

That wasn't exactly what Aramis had expected to come out of Porthos' mouth. So for a moment, he simply stared stupidly at his friend. Then upon thinking about, it a broad smile spread across his features. "There are a variety of worse things to be called, mon frere."

"Let me grumble about it a might longer and I'll get back ta ya on that, Mis."

While both men conversed with one another they spotted Athos entering the courtyard, appearing quite smug.

"Last time you wore that expression, Athos, Leon had just lost his breeches from the cut of your rapier during your sparring session." Amused at the memory, Aramis' dark eyes danced.

"I remember that match," Porthos laughed gustily. "I've never been so entertained."

"I secretly believe that our son gave Athos pointers on how to do that after d'Artagnan's run-in with our lady assassin." Winking at Porthos, Aramis chuckled.

"Tis amazing how simpler life has become," Athos drawled, "since I stopped making promises and started making threats."

"Don't tell me." Holding up a hand for Athos not to say anything further, Aramis took a leap. "You ran into another of Cardinal Richelieu's new guards."

"Let us say that I taught him a lesson he soon won't forget." Blue eyes twinkling, Athos grinned.

"I think all of us should call it a day." Happily announcing his opinion, Aramis slapped his friend's backs. "Don't know about you two but I've certainly earned myself a drink as soon as I get home."

Bumping shoulders with the marksman, Athos simply nodded his head. "There comes a time in every day when," he held up a finger, "no matter what the question, the only answer is _wine_. Even if tis only one glass."

"Then what are we doin' standin' 'ere yammerin'?" In-between both men, Porthos threw his massive arms across each brother's shoulder. Side-by-side the threesome went to the stable to get their horses.

++++

_Inseparable's residence_

"The whelp ain't 'ome yet." A note of worry crept into Porthos' voice when he didn't see Tempest in his stall.

"Perhaps d'Artagnan's still with the Dauphin back at the palace," Aramis optimistically offered.

"Or our son could be with Constance." But after voicing his suggestion, Athos quickly dismissed it. "Let's try not to be too concerned. I'm sure if something held d'Art up he'll send word to us."

"If'n that's settled," steering his friends toward the house, Porthos picked up the pace, "I'm all for gettin' out of this doublet and relaxin' with that single glass of wine Athos mentioned."

++++

As the hour grew even later, there was as yet no word from d'Artagnan. About to split up to check on where the youngster could be, a knock upon the door startled them.

Athos, of course, got to it first. Upon opening it, he didn't recognize the disheveled man standing there.

"I was told to deliver this to the Musketeer Athos," the man timidly said. "Are you him?"

"Oui." When the man shoved a letter into Athos' hand, he noted that the stranger was more than ready to leave.

"I got paid ta make sure that got ta ya." Stepping off the porch, he began whistling off-key.

Observing that the stranger didn't appear all that steady upon his feet, more than likely he had quite a few drinks in him before coming up here to give Athos the letter. Tearing open the envelope, now covered with dirty fingerprints, Athos perused the missive. When finished he crumpled it up, throwing the letter on the floor. " _Nom de Dieu!_ " he violently swore. " _They found a way to bring me back!_ "

++++

_Notes:_

_Batard_ \- bastard  
_Docteur_ \- doctor  
_Nom de Dieu!_ \- God damn it!

 _Quote: "Someone just called me normal. I've never been so insulted in my entire life."_ from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "It's amazing how simpler life has become since I stopped making promises and started making threats."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "There comes a time in every day when, no matter what the question, the only answer is wine."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, very late evening – Garrison, Captain Treville’s office_

Slapping his letter down on Treville’s desk, Athos seethed. All was quiet and then he barked, “Read that!” Noting his commanding officer’s single arched brow, Athos realized he had been short of respectful. “I meant would you read that, Sir?”

Ignoring his lieutenant’s lack of manners, Treville perused the missive. When he had finished, he completely understood the younger man’s lack of decorum. “Where are Porthos and Aramis?”

“Readying our horses and getting supplies we may have need of once we arrive at Pinon.”

Slowly standing up Treville walked around his desk until he stood facing Athos. Placing both his hands on the other man’s shoulders he shook them gently. “I hope you realize that they won’t hurt the boy. This was a desperate act of a desperate people that felt there was no other recourse.”

“ _I… do… not… care!_ ” Athos growled deep in his throat. “Sir.”

“I shall come along with you.” Getting his cloak and chapeau Treville walked out of his office with Athos by his side. “First I must speak with His Majesty.”

“Très bien." Body stiff with anger he tried hard to contain, Athos went over to where he left Roger. "We shall wait for you at our home." Climbing upon his mount's back he stared down at the older officer. "We leave immediately after that."

Going to the stable Treville collected his own horse, before leaving for the palace.

++++

_Royal Palace – King Louis’ chambers_

Yawning, still drowsy from the four glasses of wine he’d had at dinner, King Louis cracked one eye open at a time to gaze upon his old fox. “Treville, don’t you ever sleep?” Overly tired, he had retired earlier than usual and had no idea what hour it was.

Smiling, Treville nodded his head. “When time permits, Sire.” When he was satisfied that the young monarch was fully awake, Treville went on to explain everything pertaining to Athos, Pinon and d’Artagnan. Of course the king knew of Athos’ past but this was the first time he had heard about unrest in that area.

“I say,” sitting up in his huge bed, King Louis stared over the mounds of covers into Treville’s face, “they’re not allowed to take matters like this into their own hands!” Thumping his bed with a fist, his eyes narrowed on the captain. “There are laws to be followed. I should know I wrote them.”

"I can't speak for the citizens personally, Your Majesty, however I do agree that it was Athos' responsibility to take care of his tenants."

"Still, to take young d'Art was beyond the pale." Thinking upon how to tell his petit this worrisome news, King Louis did not look forward to it. "I do not believe my subjects of Pinon have realized their folly in taking such an action."

Throwing off the sheets and blankets, King Louis got out of bed. "How many men are you taking?"

"As far as I know tis only going to be the inseparables and myself, Sire."

"Captain Roussel wasn't scheduled to leave for his voyage to China for a few days yet," King Louis rubbed a finger across his forehead, while thinking. "I deem this matter of the utmost importance." After putting on his robe, King Louis paced the room. Coming to a halt he clapped his hands together, turning to face his old fox. "Whether or not the good captain leaves this week or the next doesn't matter when d'Art's welfare is in jeopardy. Be good enough, Treville, to inform Roussel that I want him to go with you."

"Tis fortunate that Roussel currently resides within the palace," Treville remarked. "Saves me time looking for him." Smiling at the young monarch who began yawning again he added, "I doubt I'll have to tell him it was a royal command to come along with us when he discovers what's happened to young d'Art."

"Quite right." Before the captain left, King Louis added one more thing. "Take anyone else you need along with you."

"Considering the lateness of the hour, Sire, along with Athos' urgent need to leave I may have to have them follow later, as it would take my men time to get their things together." Observing the young king trying hard to stifle another yawn, Treville refrained from smiling. It was about the only thing he could find humor in, at the moment. "But I thank you for letting me take extra soldiers with us." On the verge of departing now, he halted upon King Louis' next words.

"Captain," tapping his foot King Louis stared back at him, blinking owlishly, "if I am to be awakened out of a sound sleep surely your men could be too."

Knowing the king had a good point, Treville bowed. "I will see if Athos would wait while I gather more men together." Before closing the door behind him, the young king could be heard mumbling about what to tell the Dauphin. That was one conversation Treville did not envy His Majesty having.

++++

_Captain Roussel's room_

"Quit your pounding! I'm awake!" Grumbling under his breath, Roussel yanked open the door. "Treville! Not exactly the hour for callers now is it?"

"I don't have time to waste." Pushing himself past the large seaman, Treville stood in the center of the room. "Suffice it to say that d'Art's been kidnapped."

"Not again!" Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Roussel began putting his boots back on. "Tell me what happened while I get my things." So while he did so Treville told him a little of Athos' past, along with the people of Pinon that the lieutenant tried to ignore. "Never pays to let things go like that. I'm not sure which has shocked me more." Following Treville out the door, he made sure all his weapons were on him. "D'Art being carted away for a second time or that Athos is a Comte."

"A conversation for another time, Roussel." Quickly walking down the corridors Treville told him about gathering up more men. "I'm actually surprised that you weren't abed like the king."

Rough laughter escaped from Roussel. "I stay up late every night and realize tis a bad idea every single morning."

Allowing himself a slight smile, Treville had to agree with the privateer's sentiments. He found his own late nights, pouring over paperwork or whatever other concerns kept him from his bed, were not kind to him on the morrow. Though he figured, in Roussel's case, gambling had been involved.

"I tell you, Treville, I can't see Athos twiddling his thumbs while you wait for your men."

"I know. I'm praying that Porthos and Aramis would be able to make him see reason." Outside the palace now, Treville went to his horse. "With the way things are going, it well may be that none of them are going to want to wait."

++++

_Garrison_

Upon leaving the palace, Treville decided it best to send Captain Roussel off to the inseparable's place to inform them of his delay.

Having roused Germain, Monet, Dandre and Rene from their beds, Treville waited for them to quickly dress, get their supplies in order and ready their horses. Then, taking off at a fast clip, their horses raced past the Garrison gates.

++++

_Inseparable's residence_

When Treville and his company of Musketeers eventually arrived, the only one there to greet them was Captain Roussel. Huffing out a curse, Treville cocked a brow high. "Don't tell me..."

"If that's the way you want it, I won't." Placing his foot in a stirrup Roussel hefted his large bulk upon the saddle. Pulling on the horse's reins, he glanced back at Treville. "They have about a half an hour lead on us."

"You could have gone with them." Noting smirks covering his men's faces, Treville realized they weren't surprised that the inseparables hadn't hung around.

"Someone had to be here." Shrugging one shoulder, Roussel's gaze rested on the other soldiers. "Might as well have been me. Don't think I could have held them back anyway."

"No sense dithering then." Raising his hand up, letting it drop, Treville gave his order. " _Allons-y!_ " Hoping to catch up with the inseparables, he urged his mount to go faster.

++++

_Enroute to Pinon_

"Shoulda waited for the captin' is all I'm sayin'," grumbled Porthos over his shoulder at Aramis, who rode behind him on Belle.

"Mon ami, if we don't catch up to Athos soon," pointing ahead of them at their older brother who maintained quite a lead, "he'll be the one waiting for us in Pinon and won't be pleased with our tardiness."

Shaking his head Porthos knew that Athos wasn't pleased already and it would only get worse on their arrival to his friend's old stomping grounds. Both he and Aramis were going to be hard-pressed to hold Athos back from outright killing the people who were responsible for stealing their kid. Grant you, he wasn't exactly dancing a jig over it either. Though after reading the letter sent to Athos, Porthos had to admit there hadn't seemed any option left to the villagers but to attempt such a dangerous tactic.

"Tis a shame that the citizens of Pinon couldn't conceive of a different way of getting Athos to pay attention to their plight than taking d'Art." Tipping his chapeau up away from his forehead so he could see better in the darkness Aramis' lips tightened into a fine line, not realizing he was on the same wave length as his friend.

"The trouble with some people is that their 'eart is in the right place but their 'ead is up their ass." If he had to find amusement in this situation, Porthos would take what he could. Seeing Aramis' eyes widened at his remark then incline his head in silent agreement, Porthos allowed himself a slight smile.

"Not exactly the way I would have phrased it, mon frere, but to each their own." Upon noting that Athos was completely out of view, Aramis clucked his tongue, pulling tighter on his reins to let Belle take the lead.

++++

_Next day, near two p.m. - Pinon_

Pulling the wagon in front of the inn, Darley was the first to jump out. Helping Jeanne and Mabella down he watched them brush dust away from their dresses. Then Henry and Tumas joined them and lastly the Gascon youth.

"I s'pose this is the lad?" Looking at his Jeanne, all in one piece, as were the rest of her friends, Bertrand's stern profile softened upon gazing on the Comte's son. Without waiting for his daughter to respond to his query, he stepped right up to the boy. "I'm very sorry for this, child, but once my Jeanne gets an idea in her head tis hard to sway her from it."

Smiling into the gentle looking features of the older man before him d'Artagnan offered him his hand to shake. "She reminds me of papa Porthos and Aramis in that respect." Earning a snort from Jeanne to his comparison, d'Artagnan turned to look at her. "Prepare yourself for a coming storm, Mademoiselle."

"One that goes by the name of _Comte de la Fere_." Her eyes sparkled with a fierce determination. "I've weathered more than one storm in my lifetime," Jeanne casually announced. "Guess I can weather this one too."

"Oh oh!" Nudging Henry in the side, Tumas jerked his head toward the end of town. "The baron must be part bloodhound to know we've come back."

"Baron Renard has no idea where we've been," Henry reminded his friend.

But the baron wasn't alone. Accompanied by his men, and only son, Renard rode straight up to the small group. "Enjoyed your trip?"

Not mentioning names, Jeanne wasn't stupid and knew he directed his question to her. "Tis none of your business whether or not I did," she snapped.

"Better watch your mouth when speaking to my papa, Jeanne!" His eyes roamed all over the young woman's figure, making Edmond wish he could take her to his bed this very minute.

Every time Edmond stared at her, Jeanne's skin began to crawl. Hiding the nausea that grew within her, she grasped the hand nearest her which happened to be d'Artagnan's.

Gazing down upon their entwined hands d'Artangan glanced up at the young man who had just taken Jeanne to task. Dislike began to fill him already at this Edmond who was a sad imitation of Baron Renard. It would be good to make people like them grovel in the dirt. Matter of fact d'Artagnan was looking forward to it. That is if he could convince papa Athos to not strangle Jeanne first.

"Who is this youngster with you?" Sitting upon his horse, Renard looked down his nose at the boy. Of course the lad could be the son of one of the farmers. Still, he prided himself on having an excellent memory and never once had he seen this child before.

On their ride back home Jeanne, and her friends, came up with a cover story for d'Artagnan's presence. Which would only hold up until the Comte's arrival. "This is Charles, a cousin of Darley's. He's come for a visit." Crossing fingers on her free hand, Jeanne prayed he bought the lie.

That would explain why they had been gone. Nodding his head, Renard pleasantly greeted the lad. "Welcome, boy." Pulling his gaze away from the young Gascon, he noted the way Edmond was clearly drooling over Jeanne. " _Edmond!_ " he hissed in his son's ear. "Control yourself! Don't look like the village idiot!"

At his papa's words, Edmond stiffened in the saddle, face suffused with color at the reprimand. Hopefully none of the others had heard the words that still burned in his ears. Noting papa leading his horse away, Edmond had no other reason to linger lest he let himself in for another tongue lashing.

Once they had departed, and were well out of earshot, Tumas grinned. "Have you ever talked to someone so stupid that they make you squint?"

"Which one do you refer to?" asked Mabella. "The baron or Edmond?"

"Both." Feeling slaps to his back from the other men, Tumas laughed.

Jeanne breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't shot her mouth off more. Realizing her hand still clasped d'Artagnan's for support, she apologized. "Sorry for that. You probably don't have any feeling left in your fingers." Releasing her grip, she stepped closer to papa. "Still think we were wrong to do what we did, papa?"

Having seen Edmond's reaction to his daughter, Bertrand had to admit that this couldn't go on. One way or the other Baron Renard and Edmond would go down.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "I stay up late ever night and realize it is a bad idea every single morning."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "The trouble with some people is that their heart is in the right place but their head is up their ass!"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

Quote: "Have you ever talked to someone so stupid that they make you squint?" - from Aunty Acid.

 _Très bien_ \- Very well

 _Allons-y_ \- Let's go


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day and time - Pinon, Inside Bertrand's Inn_

Jeanne's friends went back to see their families and tell them that they were fine. They told her they'd come back later. For now it was just the three of them sitting around a table. For now Jeanne listened to papa tell her and d'Artagnan what's been happening while she'd been away.

"Twenty four hours isn't long by anyone's standards." Running a hand down the side of his face, Bertrand's gaze was riveted on the boy. "Still the baron's managed to create chaos and upset nearly everyone in town."

Reaching out for papa's hand, Jeanne's own covered his work roughened one. "It won't be for long." Glancing at the young Gascon, Jeanne's chin lifted upward in silent challenge.

"I'll do my best to talk papa Athos into staying to help fight this Baron Renard for you. Tis what you wanted to hear is it not?" Biting his lip, d'Artagnan didn't appear as confident as he tried to sound. "Jeanne, you mentioned that your letter wasn't delivered to papa until late eve yesterday." At her nod of confirmation, he looked over at Bertrand. "Papa won't arrive until late tonight then."

"How could you be so sure, d'Artagnan?" Curious as to what led the lad to say that, Bertrand listened intently.

"It wouldn't have mattered which of my papas received a letter informing them that I had been kidnapped. They wouldn't waste a single minute and come after me immediately." Possibly Bertrand thought it would have taken several days or longer for them to arrive. In that, the innkeeper underestimated the inseparables. "And in this case you'll be getting all three of them." Noting Bertrand's mouth falling open in surprise, d'Artagnan smirked. " _All for one..._ "

"Jeanne," raising a finger at her, Bertrand frowned, "what does the lad mean exactly when he said _all three_?"

"I thought you knew, papa." A look of impatience crossed her face.

"I only knew that the Comte had a child." His gaze kept sliding from his daughter to the boy and back again. Clearly puzzled, Bertrand let his eyes rest on d'Artagnan.

"I have three pères." Apparently Bertrand didn't know that and was in for a rude awakening when they all arrived.

Rubbing his forehead, feeling a headache take hold, Bertrand continued to look at them both. "Firstly am I to assume that the person referred to as Athos is the Comte de la Fere?" At twin nods, his steady gaze latched onto Jeanne again. "The others?"

"That would be Aramis and Porthos," she supplied.

"I've heard of all three of them," Bertrand murmured. "Still I had no idea the Comte was Athos nor that he shared in parenting a child."

"Anyway, papa, tis a good thing there are three and all of them Musketeers," she said. "The more to fight off the baron with."

"In the meantime while we wait for them may I see the weaponry you have to help defend yourselves." Watching various emotions pass over Jeanne's features, d'Artagnan didn't expect the response he got.

"I'd rather wait for the Comte to make Baron Renard see reason first."

"Be that as it may," d'Artagnan said, "it never hurts to be prepared."

"One of your Musketeer mottos?" Bertrand asked, slightly amused.

"Oui," d'Aragnan chuckled. "One of many."

"Still if it comes to that," tapping a finger upon the table, Jeanne's lips tightened, "the Comte would be the best judge of our arsenal."

"I'm the son of three Musketeers, Jeanne." Hating to repeat something she already knew, d'Artagnan felt it needed to be pointed out again. "Raised around the Garrison since I was a mere three years of age." Her mouth opened as if she was about to argue with him but he wagged a finger in her face. "I'm one of the best persons to judge what you have and what you don't."

"Jeanne," Bertrand interrupted, "the lad makes a good argument."

"All right." Standing, she dragged the boy from his chair. "I'll show you."

++++

Taking the youngster over to one of their sheds Jeanne opened a rickety door that had seen better days. "That's what we have." Leading the lad over to a table, she noted his unsatisfied reaction.

Exchanging an uncertain look with the young woman, d'Artagnan sighed. "Are these really all the weapons you have?" At the shake of her head, his gaze roamed over the pitiful lot of muskets, pistols, a few assorted swords most of which were rust covered from disuse and the odd poignard or two. "Your people would be better off fighting Baron Renard with pitchforks."

Picking up a dirty looking musket that clearly hadn't been taken care of in a long time, d'Artagnan blew dust off of it and began coughing. "I pray my papas are armed to the teeth." Ruefully gazing one last time at the table, he grimaced. "Because I'm not sure some of these firearms are even going to work without exploding in someone's face."

"I'll have everyone check their homes," Jeanne offered. "Perhaps there yet may be other weapons there." Feeling she should defend the people of Pinon, Jeanne added, "We've never had to fight a war before."

"I'm very much afraid you may have to now."

++++

Later in the afternoon, Edmond ignored papa's wishes and headed back to Pinon. Jeanne's sassy spirit was one of the things that made him want her all the more.

Coming out of Bertrand's home, d'Artagnan noted Edmond entering the town. It was apparent to him that the baron's son was heading toward Jeanne. She was talking with her friend Mabella and had her back turned. Deciding to join them, his feet quickly carried him over to where both young women were conversing.

When Mabella made a face, Jeanne turned around and realized why. "I told you I'm not interested in you!" Disgusted with Edmond's denseness, Jeanne gave him her back. Next thing she knew something snapped past her face hitting the post she stood beside. Mabella's scream had her twisting around to stare in shock at the whip being held in Edmond's right hand. " _How dare you!_ "

"I can _dare_ anything I want!" A haughty expression covered Edmond's features.

"Just because you have the right to do it doesn't mean tis right to do it." Stepping over to Edmond, who had already dismounted, d'Artagnan wondered if the other man would retaliate because of his words.

"You young upstart!" Raising his whip high Edmond brought it down, aiming for the smart-mouthed boy.

It never had a chance to touch d'Artagnan, as he raised his sword up in the air letting the whip wrap itself harmlessly around the blade. Using both hands, he tugged hard enough to bring Edmond down to the ground surprising the man. "I was raised to show respect. I wasn't dragged up, I was taught to knock before I open a door." D'Artagnan kicked some dirt into Edmond's still stunned face. "Say bonjour when I enter a room. Say s'il vous plait, say merci and show respect to my elders."

Watching as Jeanne and Marbella looked on while Edmond awkwardly gained his feet, d'Artagnan removed the whip from his rapier. "I let another person have my seat if they need it, say polite things and help others when they need me... not stand on the sidelines and watch while someone struggles." Standing back from the other man, d'Artagnan raised his sword in front of him just in case Edmond tried something sneaky. "I love people for who they are, not what I can get from them, and most importantly I was raised to treat people exactly how I would like to be treated by others." Feeling Jeanne hugging him, he leaned into her touch. "Tis called... _RESPECT_."

"Something you have no truck with, Edmond," Jeanne snarled. "Come away from here, d'Artagnan, suddenly the air smells foul."

" _ALL OF YOU WILL REGRET THIS!_ " yelling at them, Edmond gathered what dignity he had left and mounted his horse.

Watching Edmond leave in disgrace, Jeanne turned a curious eye upon the Gascon youth. "You handled him as if you were used to dealing with louts of his caliber."

Grinning, d'Artagnan patted her arm. Glancing over at Mabella he chuckled noting her eyes contained the mirth she had held back. "Papa Aramis oftentimes likes to say that _life is like a rose... some days you have to deal with all the pricks._ " Both ladies convulsed into fits of the giggles. Amused himself, d'Artagnan teased them. "Was it something I said?" Escorting the young women he took them over to the inn.

A goodly portion of villagers had seen the youngster fell Baron Renard's arrogant son. Satisfied smiles were worn by most, while others plainly worried about repercussions for the entire town.

Bertrand was one of those that had witnessed what the Comte's child had accomplished. There definitely was more than met the eye from this Gascon child. Ah, bien, time would tell what trouble the lad's actions wrought this day. Though Bertrand couldn't say he was sorry that it had happened. D'Artagnan had protected his Jeanne from that brute and for that he was eternally grateful. "If anyone's interested dinner's on the table." Waving for the young people to come inside, Bertrand tapped a foot.

"Come, d'Artagnan," tugging on his arm, Jeanne all but pushed the youngster through the door. "Papa's actually a better cook than I am."

"Anyone's a better cook than you, Jeanne," Mabella lightly teased.

"Papa Porthos burns water," d'Artagnan impishly remarked. "Papa Athos is only slightly better. Tis papa Aramis' culinary skills in the kitchen that keep us from starving." With both ladies amused, he sat down at the table. "And from here on out I would prefer for all of you to call me _d'Art_." Ducking his head shyly he then lifted his long lashes catching sight of three smiling faces staring back at him.

"Friends then." Humming softly to herself, Jeanne went to one of the cupboards to get bowls and utensils out for their meal.

After making sure everyone had what they needed, Bertrand filled the bowls up with a hearty stew he had prepared.

Observing Bertrand's pensive face, d'Artagnan tried to put the older man at ease. "Do not worry so. I shall speak with papa Athos before he talks to you. He was not right to ignore your letters." Blowing on the stew, for it was steaming, d'Artagnan ate a mouthful. Swallowing the food he said, "For that I am truly sorry."

"Lad, if you could keep the Comte from having His Majesty hang us I'll forever be in your debt." Winking at the boy, Bertrand poured d'Artagnan a small glass of red wine. "Don't think I didn't see what you just did for my Jeanne." His voice gruff with emotion, Bertrand raised his glass in the air. "I don't know what's going to come from it but twas sweet to watch."

A chorus of _hear, hear_ went round the table, causing d'Artagnan to blush a fiery red." Collecting himself, he continued eating. Between mouthfuls d'Artagnan had an idea. "I think a welcoming bonfire should be readied in the center of town for my papa's arrival."

"For three men?" questioned Mabella.

A sly smile danced about d'Artagnan's lips. "I have a feeling they won't be alone."

++++

_Near eleven p.m. in the eve_

"Now that's nice of them." The night had turned chilly and Aramis welcomed the warmth of the bonfire. "I believe we were expected." Getting off Belle he went to stand by the fire, shaking off the chill to his bones.

Everyone but Athos and Captain Treville joined the marksman by the blaze.

Leaving Roger in Rene's capable hands, Athos turned to stare over the bonfire's flickering flames. On the porch of Bertrand's inn stood his son flanked by several of the townspeople. With a fire blazing in his own blue eyes, Athos marched straight over to the innkeeper. Without nary a glance at d'Artagnan, Athos was about to jump down the older man's throat.

"Papa..." Going to stand in front of the angry man, d'Artagnan placed a gentle hand against papa's chest. "First you should know how disappointed I am in you before you start making heads roll."

Taken aback from the lad's words, Athos could only stare mutely at the boy.

"These people still consider you their seigneur and protector. Is it so very wrong for them to demand that you defend them against another seigneur?" Not waiting for a response, d'Artagnan went on the way he meant to go. "Baron Renard's son is violent, spoiled and prejudiced against women. Between them both they have been burning fields and threatening your tenants in order to take over your lands."

"Are you quite finished?" Athos bit out, still surprised to be taken to task by his son. When d'Artagnan backed away, his burning gaze touched upon each individual standing there. "Which one of you was responsible for taking d'Artagnan along with that letter I received?"

Grabbing hold of Jeanne's wrist, d'Artagnan held her secure to his side. A minute shake of his head was all the indication he gave for her to stay put and say nothing. "Tis of no consequence now, papa."

" _D'ART!_ " Bellowing out the pup's name, Porthos engulfed the runt in a bear hug. Following his enthusiastic greeting, Aramis came next.

Wrapping an arm around his son's shoulder, Aramis brought the lad into his chest. Cupping the back of d'Artagnan's head, he brought their foreheads close until they touched. "Tis good to see you looking well."

"I was never in any danger, papa," d'Artagnan whispered.

"Twas what Porthos and I believed also." Glancing over at Athos' grim face, Aramis winced. Fortunately his brother refrained from saying anything further, while d'Artagnan spoke with their captain.

" _Captain Treville!_ " d'Artagnan cried out. "I had a feeling others would come but not you."

"It was my decision and blessed by King Louis once I spoke with him." Observing the rest of his soldiers huddling around the bonfire, he nodded in d'Artagnan's direction. "As you can see His Majesty wanted me to take more men along."

Upon noting all the familiar faces, d'Artagnan was more than happy. "Even Captain Roussel." Puzzled he glanced back strangely at the commanding officer . "He was to leave for China wasn't he?"

"King Louis had other ideas." Hugging the youngster, Treville waved Roussel over.

"D'Art, you have to quit getting kidnapped," Roussel scolded the youth, with a hearty laugh. Ruffling the lad's long hair, he took in the stiff form of Athos standing off to the side. "He was mighty worried about you."

More than concerned upon papa Athos taking his anger out on the ones that had stolen him away, d'Artagnan sidled back over to him. "Papa, give up your title if it makes you happy. But think about these people," he implored "They live on your land."

It was a sullen faced Athos that spat, "I have nothing to offer them!"

After listening to his friend's blunt words, Porthos put his two cents in. "If'n I didn't know ya better that sounded pretty cowardly." An arched brow aimed at him, followed by a pair of glowering eyes, didn't make Porthos back down. "The Athos I know always fights against injustices wherever he finds it."

Shaking his head back and forth, Athos countered. "Not here... not this time."

"I thought Milady's influence over you was done," Treville interjected. "Let this happen and they become her victims too." Not sure if he was getting through to his lieutenant, he poked a finger in the younger man's chest. "Athos, these people have no other protection from such tyrants."

"Only us," d'Artagnan quietly added.

Looking at all the Musketeers that had accompanied them, Athos had truly hoped it was only to help them retrieve d'Artagnan and return the lad safely back home. But their faces shone and it wasn't just from the glow of the firelight. Twas pride Athos noted... a soldier's pride. "Tis not your fight."

Growling, Porthos crossed his arms trying to appear fierce. "It is now!"

Gazing into the crowd of villagers gathered around the inn, Aramis grinned. "And I like it here already. Bonfire and all."

Tugging on the sleeve of papa Athos' doublet, d'Artagnan waited until he was face to face with him. He prayed the pleading look on his face would turn the tide in the town's favor. "You are la meilleure lame de France. Whom better to face up against Baron Renard?"

Having finally changed his mind, Athos still wasn't positive this was the wisest course of action. All he wanted to do was grab his child, turn his back once again on his heritage and forget Pinon ever existed. Athos should have known better... karma truly was a bitch.

++++

_Notes:_

_Seigneur_ \- lord  
_La meilleure lame de France_ \- the best swordsman in France

 _Quote: "Just because you have the right to do it doesn't mean it's right to do it."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I was raised to show respect. I wasn't dragged up, I was taught to knock before I open a door. Say hello when I enter a room. Say please, say thank you and show respect to my elders. I let another person have my seat if they need it, say polite things and help others when they need me... not stand on the sidelines and watch while someone struggles. I love people for who they are, not what I can get from them, and most importantly I was raised to treat people exactly how I would like to be treated by others. It's called respect."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Life is like a rose... some days you have to deal with all the pricks."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy, this chapter became a monster. Everytime I wanted to break it into another part I changed my mind. Then it became even longer because I wanted the next chapter to focus on the fight. Anyway... enjoy!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, late morn - Pinon_

Word had spread to Renard’s estate regarding the Comte de la Fere’s return to Pinon. Not one to let grass grow under foot, he decided to pay the man a visit. From what he had garnered the Comte was currently residing at the local inn. On an even more curious note was the fact that he hadn’t arrived alone but with a contingent of Musketeers. Something that Renard didn’t understand, unless the man expected trouble. But still to have brought soldiers along, it didn’t sit well with him. If it came down to it and the Comte wanted a fight then he would enjoy giving him one. Barking out orders to his men to ready his horse, Renard put on his finest garments. It paid to show the lower classes of Pinon who their betters were.

++++

_Pinon – Bertrand’s Inn_

Rushing into the building, Gaspard headed straight over to Jeanne and Bertrand who were listening to something the Comte was telling them. “The baron’s arrived demanding to speak with the Comte de la Fere!”

“ _Athos_ ,” he corrected tiredly. “I keep telling everyone here that for all intents and purposes the Comte de la Fere is _dead_.” Glowering at the scowl on the young woman’s face, Athos refrained from confronting her personally.

“Then tis your ghost we’ve been speaking with since last eve?” Snapping waspishly, Jeanne crossed her arms glaring at the Musketeer.

Elbowing d’Artagnan in the ribs, Aramis leaned in close to the boy. “I like her.” All the lad did was hum in response.

Choosing to ignore her words, Athos put his doublet back on that he had slung over a chair. “I gather Baron Renard is waiting outside?” Making sure he was fully armed before making his appearance, Athos reached for the door

“The baron thinks tis beneath him to enter my humble establishment.”

Upon Bertrand’s sarcastic comment, Athos arched a brow. “I am not going to enjoy my conversation with that man I can see that now.” Stepping outside he gave his full attention to the baron. Funny, but he didn’t remember him from his childhood days. Then again whenever his parents had entertained, Athos was always in his room. He had never been one for parties or small talk. That had only changed upon his unfortunate marriage to Anne. Noting Renard coming forward, Athos shook the proffered hand in greeting.

“Finally you have decided to come back to take care of la Fere lands. Tis about time.” Taking stock of the younger man, Renard was confused over the uniform the Comte was wearing.

“I came back to get my son d’Art.” Pointing over to where the boy was, Athos noted Renard appeared puzzled.

Sparing a look at the youngster he had recently met, Renard frowned. “I thought your name was Charles and you were here visiting your cousin.” Feeling as if he’d been duped, Renard waited to hear if he had been.

“My name is Charles, sir. D’Art is what I go by though.” Quickly glancing at Jeanne he then regarded the baron with a smug expression. “I was the lure that brought papa here.”

Realizing that he had been told a pack of lies, Renard’s anger grew.

“You might as well know that I have renounced my title and am no longer Comte of these lands.” Dipping his head, a grim smile passed over his lips. “I am simply known as _Athos_.” Letting his imparted words sink in he then jolted the baron by adding, “I am a Musketeer in service to His Majesty now.”

Feeling the need to sit down, Renard thought he had misunderstood the other man. “Do I have the right of it? You have rejected your nobility for the life of a common soldier?”

“There is nothin’ _commin_ ’ about the king’s Musketeers.” Joining his friend, Porthos towered over the baron as he tried to get his point across. “Plus Athos 'ere is Captin’ Treville’s lieutenant.”

Poking his head in-between both brothers, Aramis flashed the baron a most charming smile. "We're all quite dashing military men as well." He had to get his fun where he could. A sideways glance at twin scowls, equally shared by Athos and Renard, had Aramis' lips twitching. Now he figured to rub it in all the more. "Mmmmm," Aramis pleasantly hummed. "Bien, actually I'm really the dashing one of our regiment."

Renard looked at Aramis as if the Musketeer had a screw or two loose in the head.

Noting that expression, Aramis casually remarked, "You have to excuse me, Baron, my mouth is a bit like a magician's hat... you never know what's going to come out of it."

Considering the Musketeer's words of no consequence, Renard focused on the Comte or rather Athos as the man wanted to be addressed. "If what you say is true then you have no right to these lands or your people."

With an arrogant tilt of Renard’s chin, along with the way the older man looked down his nose at him, Athos realized that war had silently been declared between them. "You have not the right to burn their fields nor to threaten their lives, Baron, regardless that I have turned away from my heritage."

"Do you believe you could stop me... _Athos_?" Voice dripping with disgust showed the former Comte what Renard thought of the soldier, not only as a man but as a Musketeer.

"Perhaps if Athos' words don't carry any weight with you, Baron Renard, mine should." Stepping forward, Treville promised himself that he wouldn't lose his temper with the other man. He would try his best to be reasonable, even though the baron wasn't the same way with the people of Pinon.

"Why would I listen to another soldier?" Feeling like he was wasting his time, Renard was about to leave. It was the stranger's next words that gave him pause.

"I am Captain Jean-Armand de Treville of His Majesty's regiment of Musketeers." Pushing himself closer into Renard's space he stared directly into the other man's eyes. "I represent everything to do with the king's holdings." Waving his arm, as if to encompass the entire town, Treville's tone changed. "This village is one of those holdings, Baron." Stabbing a finger in the air, forgetting all about being reasonable he nearly snarled, "When you attack the people of Pinon, keep in mind that you're attacking the king of France as well!"

" _Pfft!_ " Not caring for ultimatums unless Renard was the one dishing them out, he let the captain's words wash over him like water rolling off a duck's back. "I don't frighten easily, Captain Treville. This land will be mine even if I have to spill blood over it!"

Watching the baron mount his horse, riding away with his men following him, Porthos hooked his fingers into his weapons belt. "I'd say that went right well."

Leaning an elbow against the building, head resting against his hand, Aramis' lips pursed. "If only closed minds came with closed mouths the world would be a much better place."

"We should only be so fortunate." His dry retort brought answering smiles from his friends. Knowing that Renard was going to be a pain in the ass over Pinon, Athos realized that there was no simple solution.

"Gents, let's all go back inside," Treville motioned them toward the inn. "D'Art already informed me that the weapons gathered so far leave much to be desired but more are to be brought to the inn today."

"We'll get to see what we make of the men willing to go against the baron while we're at it," Aramis added.

But as men filed inside the inn, placing their weapons on a table, d'Artagnan told the captain that these were only slightly better than the ones he had already seen.

Throwing an arm across the lad's shoulder, Treville spoke low while eyeing each man that offered a weapon. "An army of scarecrows," he remarked, "and not a serviceable weapon between them." Trading uncertain looks with the boy, he sighed from the depth of his soul feeling for the plight of these villagers.

As the inn continued to fill up with men and women of all ages, along with their children, Athos chose that moment to speak with them. "As most of you know by now I am no longer your seigneur." Pacing back and forth in front of everyone, he pushed on. "You will have to fight for what is yours. But we will be there right alongside you to see that justice is done."

"Don't you want to be our seigneur any longer?" asked Helene.

"What are we to do when you wash your hands of us?" shouted out Roux.

As questions were fired at Athos, left and right, he threw both hands up in the air frustrated beyond belief. "Then take the land back for yourselves!" he spat. _"I... don't... want... it!_ " he enunciated. "I give it to you!" Furious, Athos left the inn.

Held back from chasing after papa, d'Artagnan tried to shake off papa Porthos' grip. "I should go to him."

"And say what, runt?" Gently running his fingers through the whelp's hair, Porthos' dark eyes held concern for his older brother and for all of Pinon. "'E 'as ta find 'is own way back ta us."

"Papa's hurting." Burying his face in papa Porthos' doublet, d'Artagnan felt unshed tears burning his eyes.

"D'Art," gently taking the boy away from the larger man, Aramis stared into the solemn young face, "Athos will return." Chucking the lad underneath d'Artagnan's chin, Aramis hugged his son. "How could he not? The ones Athos loves above all others are still here."

Swiping at his eyes, d'Artagnan tried to take papa's words to heart. When a hard slap to his back nearly sent him sailing across the room, it was a good thing papa Aramis had a tight hold on him. Finding the one responsible for it wasn't hard, when d'Artagnan caught the twinking eyes of Captain Roussel.

"I forget my own strength sometimes, lad." Taking the youngster's arm, Roussel dragged d'Artagnan back over to the table where the pile of weapons had grown. "Treville's men rummaged through the ones in that shed you told us about and brought over any that were salvageable."

"Help us sort through these, d'Art." Hoping that busy work would keep the pup's mind off of Athos' temporary desertion, Treville then ordered Monet and Dandre to bring in the arsenal brought from the Garrison. Perhaps with all the weapons the Musketeers had with them it wouldn't be such a one-sided fight after all.

++++

_La Fere grounds_

Why did he come back here of all places? Truly he must have lost his wits. A huge portion of the mansion was a burnt out crumbling husk of its former self. But one section remained in-tact. It was to that part Athos cautiously entered. Discovering much to his astonishment that it was occupied, he uttered low a name he hadn't thought of in many years. " _Catherine?_ "

"Don't look so surprised, Olivier."

"What the deuce are you doing here?" Stunned, Athos sat down on the closest thing available, which happened to be an overturned barrel, that he hoped would hold his weight.

"After you passed me over for Anne, there weren't many eligible men around to be married off to," Catherine snorted.

"Your parents?" He still didn't understand why she was living in this place.

"Passed away a number of years ago." Placing the dead carcass of the game she had killed on a low table, Catherine stared at him. The reason why she wasn't surprised at his appearance was because some of the field workers had been speaking about Olivier's return. Talk about out of sight out of mind though. He didn't appear to know anything of her life. "They had fallen on hard times. After that it was apparent that because of our change in circumstances I was considered unmarriageable in the eyes of the ton."

"I am truly sorry."

"I don't need your pity." She began skinning the rabbit. "This place or what's left of it was as good a home as any to set up in." Her eyes narrowed on his face. "And since the owner has been absent I figured he wouldn't care a fig."

"You always were a good shot." Observing the confident way she went about the skinning, Athos regretted many things. He especially felt remorseful upon how he had treated her back then.

"Why have you returned?"

Informing Catherine of the reason he came back to Pinon, Athos decided he would like her opinion of Baron Renard and the man's son.

"I have no use for either one of them." Finished with the rabbit, Catherine washed her hands in a bucket of clean spring water. "Both are fanantical and deadly in their own way, Olivier," she warned. "Don't turn your back on them."

"I would be more concerned with my front." Lips curling upward at his jest, Athos was pleased to hear her laugh. "While I am here I might as well investigate the cellar. Perhaps I will discover something down there that we could use back in town."

"By all means do. Tis still your home, Olivier."

"Catherine, I am now a Musketeer and the name is _Athos_."

++++

_Shortly later - Pinon_

While Athos had been gone quite a scene occurred in town. Edmond had ridden in to literally pick up an unsuspecting Jeanne from the middle of the street. Whisking her away before anything could be done about it, the townspeople were in panic.

Hands on either side of his head, Bertrand moaned in despair. But Porthos and Aramis promised to bring her back to him. So he held out hope she would be safely returned soon.

++++

_Baron Renard's estate_

Leaving their horses in the woods, Aramis and Porthos cautiously approached the baron's home. Devising a plan to get Jeanne out didn't take much brain power. They could hear everyone that was inside the house celebrating. So it was easy to dupe Renard, Edmond and their retainers. Fooling all of them, making them think Jeanne was gone, Porthos, Jeanne and Aramis made their escape while everyone else had gone outside searching.

Having listened to Renard's words to Edmond and the others, Aramis had to admit he thought he had now heard everything. It astounded him that they were going to hunt Jeanne down for sport like one would an animal. Heading outside Aramis sadly looked at his companions. "Centuries of inbreeding is making the aristocracy," he knocked on the side of his own head, " _stupid_."

Gaining their mounts, Porthos helped Jeanne to climb on the back of Roulette. Then they took the roughened path leading to Pinon.

++++

_Pinon_

Overcome with emotion, Bertrand was at a loss how to thank the two Musketeers. For now he simply basked in the knowledge that his daughter was out of Edmond's clutches.

When things had finally calmed down, everyone then turned to the problem at hand... they still needed more weapons. Even with what they owned, combined with what the Musketeers had brought, it still didn't appear to be enough firepower against Baron Renard's men. Bertrand new Captain Treville was disappointed and concerned over it.

Slipping inside the room quietly, Athos overheard the men speaking. It seemed he had arrived just in time to bring them good news. "There are more weapons at the house." Joining them Athos was quickly filled in on what transpired during the short time he had been gone, making him even more furious than ever before.

"How much more are you talking about, Athos?" Treville asked. He had honestly thought the arsenal they had would be enough. But listening to Aramis' and Porthos' report on how many retainers Renard had, Treville became doubtful.

"Enough to make a fight of it." Noting d'Artagnan's face brighten, Athos wasn't positive it had anything to do with what they were currently discussing. If he were honest with himself it was probably because Athos had simply returned.

"You came back." Having doubted the comforting words of his papas, d'Artagnan was pleased that he'd been wrong.

"Do you want to get the weapons, d'Art, or do you want to stand here and chat?" Athos dryly asked, still not sure what the outcome of all this would eventually be.

"After you, papa." Happy now, d'Artagnan followed him out to their horses. "What made you come back?"

Mounted on Roger, Athos glanced over his shoulder at the lad. “You were right, d’Art. Whatever happened here, the people of Pinon are not to blame.” Riding side-by-side he added, “They should not suffer because of my mistakes.”

++++

_Back to the la Fere estate_

Taking d’Artagnan down to the cellar, Athos pointed out the armory that had been carefully stashed within. He smiled to himself noting the boy go straight over to where the swords were hanging from a rack on the wall.

Testing one of the blades for balance, d’Artagnan grinned.

Looking down at the pistol in his hand, Athos smirked. “A little battered but just about serviceable.”

Grin still plastered on his face, d’Artagnan quipped, “Are you talking about yourself or that pistol?” Listening to papa’s snuff of laughter, he was glad he’d teased him. Less than a few seconds later though, d’Artagnan watched that smile fade away. Becoming instantly concerned, at the melancholy taking over, he went to stand by papa’s side. Gently squeezing the older man’s shoulder d’Artagnan then turned it into an embrace. Oui, he loved all his papas equally but this one in particular tugged at his heart strings and d’Artagnan hated to see him like this. “A livre for your thoughts.” Placing a kiss upon papa’s temple, he waited for a response.

“You do not have any coin on you,’ Athos snorted. “Besides my thoughts are not worth much.”

“I should be the judge of that… don't you think?” d’Artagnan swiftly countered. Receiving an arched brow instead of words from papa, he didn’t press the matter further.

While loading barrels of gunpowder into the wagon, along with all the hoarded weaponry, Catherine showed herself. Wanting to avoid this, Athos realized he had no choice but to introduce her to his son. “D’Art this is Catherine de Garouville.” Looking back at her Athos pointed at the youngster. “Catherine, this is my son Charles. Though mostly the lad goes by d’Art.”

At first shocked, Catherine couldn’t take her eyes off the child. It was hard to believe that Olivier’s blood flowed through this boy’s veins. They looked nothing alike. She knew his first marriage had ended in disaster. He and Anne weren’t married that long for any off-spring to be produced from their union. So did that mean he had re-married? Her head was spinning.

“I can literally see all the questions written on your face.” Still helping the lad with the gunpowder, Athos’ eyes shifted to Catherine’s stiff figure. “I have not married again. I doubt I ever will. D’Art’s my adopted son.”

Collecting herself, Catherine couldn’t help but sneer. “I was thinking that he appeared rather young to be a Musketeer like you.” Noting the boy rolling his eyes, she ignored the juvenile response. Sadly shaking her head, Catherine gazed at Athos. “Olivier a Musketeer. _It… makes… no… sense_.”

“It makes all the sense in the world to me.” Finished with the loading, Athos listened as Catherine went on about several things. When she uttered an unflattering remark about his former wife. He shouldn’t have cared. Lord only knew that he and Anne had been apart longer than they had been together. Still it bothered Athos making him lash out. "The hanging did not go as planned! Anne is quite alive and living in Paris!" There! He had gotten that out of his system. Catherine could make of it what she would. Still stinging from her previous remarks, along with her disdain of his military status, Athos could not help himself. "Based on the look upon your face, I assume I thought out loud again."

Losing all facial color, her features tightened giving her a pinched appearance. Ignoring his sad attempt at levity Catherine snapped back. “She yet lives and you’ve done nothing about it!” Slapping Athos across the face, as hard as she could, Catherine marched back inside the house.

Hopping up into the wagon, sitting beside his son, Athos rubbed the side of his stinging face. “It never ends. I should have gone when I had the chance.”

“Would you have forgiven yourself, papa?”

His mood soured, Athos snapped, “You think you know me,” shaking a finger at d’Artagnan he tried to bank down his anger, “but you do not. Not really.”

Knowing he would be on the losing end of this argument, d’Artagnan remained quiet all the way back to the village.

++++

_Next morn – Pinon_

With the serviceable weapons gathered from the villagers, pooled together with the Musketeers weapons, including iron ball grenades, the only thing that remained was to see how many of Pinon’s citizens were willing to stand up to Renard’s tyranny.

At first only a boy appeared, a few years younger than d’Artagnan. It wasn’t a promising start. Then slowly, one-by-one, the people all turned out to stand uncertainly before the Musketeers. Now came the truly hard work… teaching them to fight against incredible odds.

“’Ow do we turn this bunch of misfits into a fightin’ force?” Shoulder-to-shoulder with d’Artagnan, Porthos poked the kid in the side.

“You’re asking me?” Huffing a snort of amusement, d’Artagnan caught sight of papa Aramis’ dancing eyes. “You seem happy.”

“What’s not to be happy about?” Spinning around in a circle, his face raised to the sky, a smile upon his lips Aramis gayly laughed out loud. “The sun is shining… we have more than enough weapons now… and just the thought of making Baron Renard and Edmond realize they bleed like the rest of us literally has made my morn.” Facing the bemused lad, he squeezed the back of d’Artagnan’s neck. “It makes me realize this is just what I was born to do.”

“You mean to protect the innocent and fight against injustice?” quizzed d’Artagnan.

“Oh that too.” Patting the pup’s cheek, Aramis winked. “But mainly just the fighting. To risk everything… to put it on the line. How else do I know I’m truly alive?”

“I see what you mean, papa.” Arm-in-arm, d’Artagnan went with him to help distribute their arsenal.

++++

Having set up a practice range, Aramis' earlier jovial mood nearly evaporated upon observing the men and women continually miss their targets. Frustration mounting, he began to have serious doubts upon getting the best of Baron Renard after all.

D’Artagnan had stayed to watch, grimacing at the poor shooting. Not able to contain himself any longer, he voiced his opinion to them in hopes it would spur everyone on to do better. “You’d all be dead by now but don’t let that bother you!” Papa Aramis had told them to try again so d’Artagnan murmured a quiet prayer for them to hit what they aimed at and not each other… or papa. The latter ducking when one of the older men pointed his weapon at papa Aramis instead of at the target.

Pondering upon how well the hand-to-hand training was going, Aramis threw over his shoulder, “D’Art, go see how Porthos is making out. It may prove far safer over there than here.”

Frowning, Bertrand looked down at his daughter. “I believe we’ve been insulted, Jeanne.”

Grinning back she chirped, “”Then let’s prove Aramis wrong.”

++++

Scratching at his head, Porthos watched the men practice his methods of fighting. Wincing when Dandre nearly knocked out two of the villagers, he wondered if he should step in. Changing his mind, Porthos this time observed Rene trying to trick another man with nearly the same results as Dandre. “ _ENOUGH!_ ” Bellowing loudly, Porthos glared at the men of Pinon. “If’n we keep this up there’ll be no one ta fight Renard!” Thanking the two younger Musketeers, he told everyone to take a break.

In the meantime the rest of the soldiers, along with most of the village, were helping to build the strong barricades needed to defend the town.

While all that was going on, Athos supervised an idea offered up by Roussel. He took men out into the fields to plant barrels of gunpowder into the ground. Tilting his head toward the privateer, Athos grew concerned. “You have seen this work before?”

"I've never seen it not work," Roussel muttered, "and I should know because I've used it myself a number of times."

Staring at the seaman, a question on the tip of his tongue, Athos decided now was not the time to ask. He would get the full story out of Roussel later. "Being a pessimist by nature," Athos drawled, "what shall we do _if_ those barrels do not explode when fired upon?"

Hands on his hips, Roussel eyed the area where the gunpowder now laid buried. "When I smell water I'll think of crossing the bridge, Athos."

++++

Later, gathering all the townspeople together, Treville gave them an encouraging pep talk. "Remember your discipline! Think like soldiers and you cannot lose!" He gazed at all the faces staring back at him and prayed he would yet see them again when this was all said and done. "What you risk reveals what you value! And I know every one of you _value_ each other and Pinon!" Cheers went up all around Treville, while he continued. "Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak! Courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen!"

"Baron Renard did not have the courage to sit down and listen!" Athos' voice joined that of his captain's. "So let your weapons speak for you!" More cheers rent the air, upon his words.

"Havin' gotten ta know all ya fine folks," Porthos gruffly said, "I just wanna add to what Captin' Treville and Athos told ya." Musket in one hand, sword in the other, he looked each man, woman and child in the eye. "A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people ta make it worth the effort!" Raising his blade high, Porthos wasn't finished. "So let's _ANNOY_ the 'ell outta Renard!" If there had been a house ready to crumble the roar from the crowd would have brought it down.

Lastly Aramis addressed the people who were ready to fight for what they believed was right. Tipping his chapeau back from his head, his dark eyes crinkled in the corners. "I have a motto..."

"Don't ya always, Mis?" Guffaws of laughter emitted from the crowd upon Porthos' teasing words.

Shaking his head at his brother's interruption, Aramis started over again. "As I was saying... I have a motto that I've always lived by." Throwing Porthos a look to make sure his friend didn't butt in again, Aramis smiled. "It's always worked for me and I believe it shall for all of you."

"Get on with it, Aramis! We don't have all day!" hollered out Roussel, trying to ease the tense atmosphere he felt building up again.

" _Live... laugh... and love_... and if that doesn't work," Aramis grinned slyly at the crowd, " _load... aim... and fire!_ "

This time a tremendous roar went up from the people, all in agreement with the marksman. Shortly afterwards, with their spirits bolstered, everyone dispersed to take up their positions.

Checking that everyone had what they needed, Athos spotted a familiar figure. Taken completely by surprise she was the last person he would have expected to see here, especially after their heated words. "Catherine, I did not believe you would come to help us."

"Don't lump me with all those peasants, Athos." Checking her ammunition, she missed the flash of irritation that came and went in his blue eyes upon her derogatory remark. "I can't stand that tyrannical batard which is the only reason why I'm here."

"Then all that is left to say is... be careful." Walking away from the bitter woman, Athos heard her soft retort.

"I always am."

++++

_Notes:_

_Seigneur:_ lord  
_Batard_ \- bastard

 _Quote: "My mouth is a bit like a magician's hat... you never know what's gonna come out of it."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "If only closed minds came with closed mouths."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Based on the look on your face, I assume I thought out loud again."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "When I smell water I'll think of crossing the bridge."_ \- This particular line came from one of my favorite seventies show I loved to watch. _The Rookies_. This line stuck with me as it's a play on the common phrase - I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I figured it suited Captain Roussel since it mentioned water. LOL!

 _Quote: "What you risk reveals what you value."_ \- from Jeanette Winterson, (born 27 August 1959), is an award-winning English writer. She is also a broadcaster and a professor of creative writing.

 _Quote: "Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak, courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen!"_ \- from Sir Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill, (30 November 1874 – 24 January 1965). He was a British politician, army officer, and writer, who was Prime Minister of the United Kingdom from 1940 to 1945 and again from 1951 to 1955.

 _Quote: "A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people ta make it worth the effort!"_ \- from Herm Albright, (29 January 1876 - 21 September 1944). He was a painter and lithographer, born in Mannheim, Germany. He immigrated to the United States and settled in San Francisco in 1905.

 _Quote: "Live, laugh and love... and if that doesn't work... load, aim and fire!"_ \- from Aunty Acid. (I have to admit this is my fav line.)

The part where Catherine warns Athos about not turning his _back_ on Renard, etc., and Athos replies about being more concerned with his _front_ , came about from a remark made during an episode of Stargate SG-1's The Broca Divide. I always thought that line was amusing especially at the looks Daniel Jackson received from Colonel Makepeace.

I also got a kick out using the word _return_ whenever possible since the title of the episode which these chapters have been based on was called _The Return_ (evil grin here, LOL!)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same place as last time…_

Everyone was ready or as near to be as they could. The fighting hadn’t even begun yet and frayed nerves already were becoming obvious.

Wanting nothing more but to tuck d’Artagnan away until the battle was over, Athos knew that he could not do it. His son would never forgive him. Especially when there were children just as young, or younger, than the lad who would also be involved in the confrontation.

Stopping beside where Monet stood with Darley, Germain and Roussel, Athos watched while they distributed out the rest of the weapons. Pleased, Athos felt that Baron Renard was in for a rude awakening when they came riding into Pinon. The baron would not find easy pickings in this town.

++++

Muskets and pistols in hand the villagers waited with itchy, unused trigger fingers at the ready. The soldiers, as well, were armed with their swords and main gauches. There had been some talk amongst the Musketeers on why they hadn’t brought their plug bayonets with them. At the time none of them questioned Captain Treville upon it, since it was he who had voted against it. Hazarding a guess it would probably have been because of the time factor involved in using them. Once the bayonet lodged into the muzzle it could become tightly stuck. Removing it would require great effort or worse it could damage the musket when trying to get it out. Either way it would be a time consuming prospect. Twas a shame because it would have acted as a pike-like weapon which they could have used. At least they had their iron ball grenades with them. The hollow iron bulbs, packed with gunpowder and corked with a fuse, were deadly and everyone hoped this would give them an advantage against Renard’s men.

++++

His papas were all separated and stationed at different points around the barricades. D’Artagnan assumed they were, like him, anxious for this fight to begin.

“Runt!” Porthos called out from where he was positioned, not that far from his kid. “I want ya ta be real careful! Ya ‘ear me? Cause I don’t like repeatin’ myself!”

“Loud and clear!” Rolling his eyes, when papa turned his back on him, d’Artagnan caught Jeanne’s amused expression.

“Sounded like Porthos had told you that before.” Observing the boy duck his head upon her words, Jeanne had noted his facial expression change to one of irony. She didn’t have long to wait for d’Artagnan’s response.

“I’m always in trouble for something.” Checking his pistols for the umpteenth time, he peeked at her from underneath his long lashes. “Tis just the depth that varies.” Despite their dire situation, her laughter brought an answering grin from d’Artagnan.

++++

Making a last sweep of the grounds, Athos passed by the area where Catherine was. Her sour looking face goaded him into saying something perhaps he should have remained silent upon. “Why can you not be happy with the little you have?" Waving his hand all about him, he pressed on. “There are people with nothing who still manage to smile.”

Setting her pistols aside, Catherine looked down her nose at him. “After listening to your decision to give these peasants your land,” she practically sneered her displeasure, “why should I be _happy?_ ” Deciding to keep busy, Catherine loaded another set of pistols. “La Fere should rightfully have been given to me and not them if you didn’t want it.”

Tight-lipped, Athos turned away from her only to shortly later bump into Aramis. His brother, of course, noted right away the foul mood Athos was already in. With his friend’s uncanny perception, Aramis already divined what had set Athos off.

“We haven’t even begun to engage our enemy, mon ami.” Patting Athos’ right shoulder, Aramis stared into the other man’s turbulent blue eyes. “What troubles you?” His eyes flicked from the woman Athos had just left and back again to his brother. Instead of coming right out with it, Aramis rather wanted his friend to admit it outright.

Running a hand down the back of his neck, Athos glanced back to where Catherine’s stiff figure still stood. “I do not regret burning my bridges, Aramis. I regret that some people were not on those bridges when I burnt them.”

Ah! So there was more to Athos’ backstory than his friend had admitted to and Catherine must have played a large part in it. It seemed that every time Aramis came upon the two of them Athos appeared quite frustrated with the woman. Which left Aramis to surmise, by his brother’s sarcastic comment, that those _bridges_ mentioned included not only Catherine but Milady as well. Wanting to dwell upon it more, Aramis’ curious musings were interrupted by someone shouting. Turning around he noted Henry and Tumas racing towards them.

“Renard’s coming!” cried out Tumas first. Beside him Henry was still panting, trying to catch his breath.

“Heads up, everyone!” shouted Captain Treville. “Stand your posts!”

Those few words sent a chill running through the townspeople. Each individual prayed they would be able to see this through to the bitter end.

++++

Standing behind the barricades, Roussel stared at the man beside him in shock. “Tell me… is being stupid a profession or are you just gifted?” He spoke to a man, about in his mid-twenties, who was leaning on his long-range musket with the muzzle upward. “If you want to blow your own head off tis your own affair. But don’t take anyone else with you.” Grabbing the musket from under the surprised fellow, Roussel shoved it back into Rene’s hands who had watched the entire exchange. “A bit late to drive some common sense into him, Rene. Just make sure he knows which end to shoot from and not to mistake one of us for the enemy.”

Grim-faced, Rene went over to the man instructing him one last time. It was to be hoped that his lesson would stick in this one’s head until their war was over.

++++

When Renard approached the town, his eyes rested on the erected barricades. He cast a look to his right where Edmond was with the rest of his men. “They think that flimsy excuse for protection will stop us. What say all of you?” Listening to the men yell out that the barricades won’t hold them back, Renard gave the word to attack. “Teach them a lesson they soon won’t forget!”

++++

“Here we go,” Germain muttered under his breath, while training his musket on the riders heading their direction. Firing his weapon, he brought down the first of the baron’s men. It was if his shot was the cue for all the others to begin, as he listened to everyone follow suit.

Bertrand and Jeanne managed to actually hit what they aimed at. They had no idea whether Renard’s men were merely injured or dead nor, at that moment, did they care.

In his element Porthos fired his pistols one at a time at the oncoming riders. Watching Renard’s retainers fall from their horses gave him grim satisfaction. Throwing one of the pistols down, he brandished his sword with his free hand cutting down another lackey of the baron’s. Catching sight of Dandre looking his way, Porthos grinned saluting the younger Musketeer with his blade. “Violence won’t solve anythin’ but it sure makes me feel good!” Throwing a wink at his comrade, Porthos focused on dwindling Renard’s numbers.

Athos stood by Treville's side. The latter was barking out orders and bolstering flagging spirits. Having decided the best way to dispatch their opponents was face to face, Athos, Roussel, Monet, Aramis, Dandre and Porthos all jumped over the barricades to engage the enemy force. Splitting up they took on Renard's men. Of the baron and his son there was no sign. Typical of Renard to send in his retainers first, to test the waters so to speak.

Leaving a trail of bloody bodies behind him, Athos took time to note d'Artagnan holding his own. Feeling nothing but pride in the lad, he turned his attention back on his own fight.

++++

Balancing himself on top of several crates d'Artagnan's blade clashed against his opponent's. Using a signature move of his by flipping over the unsuspecting man's head to land behind him, d'Artagnan lashed out with a savage cut to his attacker's side. Thus leaving his enemy nothing but a bleeding lump on the ground. Then noting Mabella needed some help warding off more of Renard's men that managed to climb over their barricades, d'Artagnan immediately went to her aid.

Originally there had been five men to deal with that were doing their best to kill d'Artagnan and her. But between the two of them Mabella shot three dead and d'Artagnan badly wounded one man and had dealt a death blow to the last one. Never having taken a life before, it hadn't shaken him as much as he thought it would. Perhaps it was because it was kill or be killed. This is what his papas faced on a daily basis, and if he wanted to be a Musketeer this is what his life would be like.

++++

Knowing what was coming next all the Musketeers and Captain Roussel retreated behind the barricades. Baron Renard's men wouldn't know what hit them.

Having taken up a strategic position, to gain a better advantage of blowing up those barrels of gunpowder Athos and Roussel had buried, Aramis took careful aim on the first one. Squeezing the trigger he dipped his head then lifted it back up while wearing a shit-eating grin when the explosion came, wiping out at least ten of Renard's men. One after one Aramis continued to blow up the barrels sending sprays of dirt and bodies high in the air. Added to the mix were the grenades being thrown out by other Musketeers and many of the villagers. By the time Aramis was done the area gave all the appearance of a true battlefield.

Having a clear view now of where Renard was, Aramis stood up and mockingly bowed. He shouted out, "If you've never met the devil in the road of life, Renard, tis because you're both heading in the same direction!" Oh if looks could kill Aramis would be meeting his maker at this moment. Good luck with that you batard, he pleasantly thought.

Hearing grunting sounds from behind him, Aramis turned around and observed Porthos holding a man in a choke hold. Obviously it was one of Renard's retainers who was turning purple by the looks of it. Wondering why his brother simply didn't put an end to things, one way or the other, he yelled out an obvious question. "What the deuce are you doing?"

Still grappling with his victim, Porthos glared over at Aramis. "Don't worry about what I'm doin', Mis! Worry about why you're worried about what I'm doin'!"

With a rueful shake of his head, Aramis noted that Athos, Captain Treville, along with the other Musketeers were back outside of the barricades again. Spying Renard through the haze of smoke, along with Edmond, Aramis didn't think twice about joining his brother-in-arms. It was a good day to be alive.

++++

It was while Athos paired off with Edmond that things went sideways. As steel met steel both men managed to make superficial cuts on each other, not that it slowed either one of them down.

Whirling around, the force of Athos' next strike brought Edmond to the ground. His sword at the younger man's throat, Athos listened when Edmond egged him on.

"What are you waiting for?" Edmond spat.

"Do not tempt me." Blade teasing Edmond's neck, Athos was deciding how the rest of this should play out. Oddly enough, someone else had other ideas when a feminine voice rang out with a demand.

"Drop your sword, Athos!" Her pistol aimed at the Musketeer, Catherine was showing him and everyone else that she was deadly serious. When Athos threw his rapier away, her eyes narrowed. "I can't breathe in a world where your wife still lives!" After he had informed her that Anne was currently in Paris, the thought of that bitch festered like a wound until Catherine couldn't think of anything else but ending her.

++++

What was left of the battle grounded to a halt upon the scene being played out before them. The townspeople were aghast at the woman's audacity, as all eyes were on her while she threatened their former Comte.

No longer worried about coming out from behind the barricades, d'Artagnan went to stand beside papa Porthos. "She hates him," he whispered.

Joining them, Aramis heard the pup's words. "It could be worse."

"Huh?" Swiveling his head, d'Artagnan looked at papa confused as to what he meant.

Tapping his chest, Aramis gave his son a lopsided smile. "She could hate me." With Porthos hissing in his ear to shut up, Aramis conceded that his brother was right. This wasn't the place for levity. "Catherine's past was closely entwined with Athos'. She blames him for things that had gone wrong in her life." Holding tightly to the lad's arm, Aramis wanted to make sure the youngster didn't do anything rash like he would. With age came wisdom, so Aramis would bide his time and move in when the time was appropriate.

++++

"I wanted you to give my life back to me." Her eyes shifted to where Edmond still laid in the dirt by Athos' feet. "What would you give me for him?"

"Catherine, put the gun down." Holding out his hand, Athos tried to placate her. "We can talk this through."

"If you would turn La Fere over to me, Athos, that at least might be some compensation." Eyes flashing fire at him, Catherine's chin jutted up with determination. "I don't see you changing your mind anytime soon over that so perhaps he," she pointed toward Edmond with her weapon, "could give me what I deserve."

"That spoiled brat can't give you squat!" shouted Porthos, whose irritation with Renard, Edmond and now her had made him lose what patience he had left. A firm squeeze to his shoulder from Aramis began to calm him down somewhat.

Listening to Catherine's tirade, and his friend's words, Athos didn't realize the danger Edmond still posed. But someone else did note that Renard's son wasn't out of the count just yet.

++++

Having spotted Edmond reaching for something, d'Artagnan couldn't mistake the poignard in the man's hand now. Taking advantage of papa Aramis' fixation upon what was transpiring, he managed to shake the hold on his arm. Ignoring papa's shout of fear for him, he raced past Catherine. When he threw himself at Edmond, several things happened simultaneously.

Startled when the blurred figure rushed by, Catherine’s pistol accidentally went off hitting Athos high in the left shoulder.

Spinning around from the impact of the projectile, Athos suddenly found himself on his knees. Clutching the painful wound, while blood poured freely through his fingers, Athos’ vision began to grey out. Collapsing in a heap upon the hardened earth, his eyes slipped shut.

As for d’Artagnan’s struggles against Edmond, it was a toss-up as to which one of them was getting the better of the other.

Observing his son’s fight, Porthos wanted to intervene but was of two minds on what to do. If he barged in-between them, d’Artagnan could end up injured anyway. He cared not for Edmond’s fate. The brat deserved everything coming to him.

Fingers twitching against the trigger of his pistol Aramis was of the same like mind as his larger brother, even though he didn’t know they shared the same fear.

It was when Athos began moaning that d’Artagnan made the mistake of becoming distracted. Twisting his head around, glancing over at papa, it was then that Edmund lunged upward plunging the poignard he had been desperately clinging to in d’Artagnan’s lower right side. At that same moment another pistol shot rent the air striking Edmond in the chest.

His body limply rolling off of Edmond’s, d’Artagan’s hands gripped his right side. Whimpering from the pain, he could vaguely make out the distant sounds of shouting all around him. He even believed papa Athos spoke to him but couldn’t be sure with all the chaos going on.

Feeling the touch of gentle hands upon him, d’Artagnan knew without looking that it was papa Aramis. Hissing in pain when papa was taking a look at his injury, he weakly lifted his head up. “How bad… is… it?”

“Mon coeur, right now I can’t tell how deep the blade went in until I get you back inside the inn to check you more thoroughly.” Praying that the poignard hadn’t hit anything of vital import, Aramis ran a not quite steady hand over the lad’s forehead.

“You haven’t… called me that… since I… was a child.” Wincing from the pain, d’Artagnan closed his eyes. “It really… hurts.”

“I know, mon ange.” His dark eyes glanced upward to where Porthos stood hovering. “I have been where you’re at more times than I can say.”

“There… you go… again, papa.”

Realizing that he has now twice referred to the boy as sweetheart and angel, Aramis offered up a sad smile.

“You’re still a _child_ peanut.” Frowning down at Aramis, Porthos dropped to his knees beside his friend and son.

Gritting his teeth, d’Artagnan tried to smile at the pet name papa Porthos teased him with. Trying to breathe through the agony of his wound, however, was a new experience for him. He wouldn’t recommend the feeling to anyone. Now d’Artagnan realized why there were times that none of his papas wanted to discuss their injuries with him. “How’s… papa Athos?”

“Monet and Dandre have nearly as much field experience as I in treating wounds, lad. Athos is in good hands.” Wishing he felt as confident as he sounded, Aramis watched Porthos card his large fingers through their son’s sweaty hair.

“Edmond? What of… him?” Rolling his head from side to side, d’Artagnan still couldn’t get a clear view of the other man.

"'E's dead, runt."

"I wouldn't have told him that." Removing his blue sash from around his waist, Aramis scowled at Porthos. "Then again that's just me." Pressing the material on the pup's injury, as gently as he could, he was pleased to see that the bleeding was beginning to slow down. Still from the blood loss and shock of being stabbed his son appeared quite pale, which was to be expected of course.

"Let's pretend I give a crap and leave it at that, Mis." Having no use whatsoever for Renard's brat, Porthos waited for a signal from Aramis. When it came carefully he lifted d'Aragnan up in his arms to carry the whelp back to the inn.

Hanging between Monet and Dandre, a semi-conscious Athos was being led away as well. While following behind Porthos and Aramis, sounds of crying reached his ears briefly drawing his attention away from his sluggish thoughts. Telling his carers to stop Athos looked around until his eyes fell upon Baron Renard cradling Edmond in his arms. In pain himself, and more than anxious over d'Artagnan's welfare, Athos was coherent enough to snarl, "Karma has no... menu, Renard! You... get served... what you deserve!" With a nod at the men keeping him upright, they continued on.

Walking beside Porthos, with the man's precious cargo, Aramis passed Roussel. "Did you happen to see who took Edmond down?"

"Twas myself." His eyes darkened upon remembering when d'Artagnan got stabbed. "I wasn't fast enough and the boy got hurt."

Hearing what the privateer was beating himself up over, Athos made Dandre and Monet stop once more. "Edmond... could have done... more... damage to our pup... if... not for your... quick action." Weak and pale himself from the loss of blood, Athos stuck out his right hand for Roussel to take. "My heartfelt thanks."

"I wish it hadn't happened, Athos." His voice filled with regret, Roussel motioned for Monet to move away. Replacing the younger Musketeer, he helped Dandre take some of Athos' weight.

"Where did... Catherine go to?" Craning his neck, while Dandre and Roussel took him to the inn, Athos' blurry vision could not see her anywhere in the vicinity.

"I think she was shocked when her shot wounded you, Athos," Bertrand offered. "After you and d'Art got hurt and then with the death of Edmond she took off like a bat out of hell."

"If it makes you feel any better, Athos," Jeanne added seriously, "It looked to me like it was an accident."

"You're sure about that?" questioned Treville.

"When d'Aragnan attacked Edmond to prevent him from killing Athos the boy flew by her," Jeanne explained. "Looked to me as if Catherine was taken by surprise, firing her pistol automatically without meaning to." All the men stared back at her oddly, making Jeanne take a few steps backward. "I'm not making excuses for her. Believe me I have no love for Catherine anymore than she has for me but that's what it seemed like at the time."

"Why don't we see to it that Athos, d'Artagnan and all our other wounded get the care they need before trying to hash things out." The people of Pinon may have won the day but there had been losses... on both sides. Though Baron Renard lost a shocking amount of men. The unexpected death of Edmond would be something the baron wouldn't get over anytime soon. Perhaps the loss of the man's son would be the straw that broke Renard's back.

++++

_Notes:_

Plug bayonets and iron ball grenades were part of a Musketeer's arsenal, along with their muskets, swords and main gauches.

 _Quote: “I’m always in trouble for something. It's just the depth that varies."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote:_ _“Be happy with the little you have. There are people with nothing who still manage to smile.”_ – from Aunty Acid

 _Quote:_ _"I don't regret burning my bridges. I regret that some people weren't on those bridges when I burnt them."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Tell me... is being stupid a profession or are you just gifted?"_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com

 _Quote:_ _"Violence won't solve anything but it sure makes me feel good."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com

 _Quote: "If you've never met the devil in the road of life, it's because you're both heading in the same direction."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com

 _Quote:_ _"Don't worry about what I'm doing. Worry about why you're worried about what I'm doing."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote:_ "Let's pretend I give a crap and leave it at that." - from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote:_ _"Karma has no menu. You get served what you deserve."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Batard_ – bastard  
_Mon coeur_ – my sweetheart  
_Mon ange_ – my angel


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day but later, mid-afternoon or thereabouts – Bertrand’s Inn_

Athos had been led into one of the rooms upstairs and d’Artagnan in another with Aramis dividing his time between the both of them. Dealing with his friend’s wound, Aramis was pleased that it had been a through and through. It had centered around the fleshier part of Athos’ left shoulder. Doubting that any muscle tissue had been damaged, because of the location, still Athos would be sidelined for a time. His brother would have to do exercises to get that shoulder back into working condition. Something he already knew from past experience that Athos hated. Actually all of them hated that part of the healing process.

It was d’Artagnan’s injury that gave Aramis pause. This was his son he was tending to and it shook him up on many levels. This being the pup’s first serious wound, the boy had been in considerable pain. Thanks to Mabella and Jeanne, Aramis had the necessary ingredients on hand to prepare pain draughts for both the boy and Athos. His first steps into the older man’s room proved to Aramis that his brother was prepared for what was coming, judging by the scowl already formed on the swordman’s face.

“If I promise to miss you, will you go away?" Grimacing when he tried to sit up in bed, Athos silently glowered at the concoction Aramis carried. Knowing how foul it would taste had already unsettled his stomach and that was before it ever even touched his tongue.

Amused, Aramis’ brow quirked upward. “You sound better with your mouth closed, mon frere.”

“Very funny.” Blue eyes hard as steel, Athos wasn’t laughing. Taking the pain draught from his friend Athos drank it down all in one go. The bitter taste always made him shudder. This time was not an exception either. Pushing the empty cup back into Aramis’ hands he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headboard. “How is d’Art faring?”

“The bleeding has stopped, Dieu soit loue.” Crossing himself Aramis then kissed his crucifix. “As you know the poignard struck d’Art’s lower right side.” Sitting on the edge of Athos’ bed, Aramis bent his head. “The blade didn’t penetrate fully. Still it is a very painful injury.” Shaking his head, he stood up. “I was at first concerned that our son’s appendix or kidney had been nicked but I do not believe that to be the case.” Observing Athos’ getting over the taste of the draught, Aramis allowed himself a brief smile. “I’ve been constantly checking him for signs of fever to the point where d’Art’s wanted to throw me out of his room.”

“By what you have just told me I would have thought there wouldn’t be any risk of infection.” Frowning, sometimes Athos was exasperated with Aramis because the man would oftentimes not give you straight answers, leading one to think in a totally wrong direction.

“Tis just…” Running a shaking hand through his long curls, Aramis huffed. “Athos… this is our son.”

“Whom we have had the joyful, and sometimes not so joyful, experience of sharing since the lad was three.” Worry lines appeared on Aramis’ face that disturbed Athos. “Ah, I know what troubles you and I will say this to you only once." He held up a finger. "Do not think me hardhearted because where our son is concerned I would fight heaven and earth for him. But when d’Art joins the regiment, which we all know he eventually will, are you always going to fall apart when the child gets hurt?” Not waiting for a response, Athos pressed on. “You know as well as I that injuries are part and parcel of our job and the pup would not thank us for smothering him when he is wounded.”

Pacing back and forth, Aramis paused and snapped at his brother. “Do you not think I know that?” Stabbing a finger in the air he said, “Pot meet kettle. Hmmmpf!”

“Ever since those last two disasters occurred I promised d’Art that I would try not to keep him in a glass castle." Realizing that news would come as a surprise to Aramis, Athos noted the growing irritation cover the marksman's features.

“Oh you did, did you?” Eyes sharply fixed on his older brother Aramis crossed his arms, tapping his foot. “You didn’t tell Porthos or I this.”

“I am informing you of it now.” Tired beyond belief as the pain draught worked its way through Athos’ system, his eyelids began drooping to half-mast. Waving at the door, he quietly issued an order. “Would you mind leaving me in peace so I could rest?” Feeling the brush of fingers against his forehead, and a touch of lips to the top of his head, Athos drifted off not hearing Aramis’ departure.

++++

_D’Artagnan’s room_

Kissing the pup’s forehead was an excellent way to test for fever, also sneaky as d’Art on one occasion told him. Pulling up a chair close to the bed his gaze rested on another figure sitting on the opposite side. “Porthos, how has he been while I’ve been with Athos?”

Holding tightly to the runt’s hand, Porthos barely spared the other man a glance. “Kid ‘asn’t stirred since ‘e drank your draught.” His dark, serious, eyes dragged themselves away again from his son to stare into Aramis’ strained features. “Ya look about ready ta keel over.”

“I’ll rest a bit once I know d’Art’s truly out of the woods," he frowned for a second or two, "even though I just told Athos that I believed our son would be fine in the long run.” Running a hand down the side of his own tired face, Aramis’ long fingers lightly teased the youngster’s hair. “I think d’Art has the makings of being a fine Musketeer.” Smiling tenderly at the sleeping boy, Aramis’ gaze shifted toward his friend to see if Porthos agreed.

Bowing to his friend's knowledge of field medicine, Porthos didn’t pursue further on the subject of the whelp’s health. He had been injured enough himself to see that d’Art’s wound, though deuce painful, wasn’t life threatening. “Ya know Athos’ thoughts on it don’t ya?”

“Oui.” Checking to see if the fresh linens he had used on the wound needed changed, Aramis seemed satisfied with what he saw. "Our brother is of the mind that d’Art's destined to be one of our greatest Musketeers.”

“If’n the runt lives long enough.” Voice rough with emotion Porthos rubbed at his eyes, finally giving into the tears he wanted to shed when his son first had gotten hurt.

“Are you crying?” Always the emotional one of their famille, aside from their hotheaded son, Aramis shouldn’t have been surprised at Porthos’ reaction.

“What da ya think?” Snapping back, Porthos swiped at his eyes again. “Thought I’d lost both of ‘em there for a few minutes.”

Softly humming in agreement, Aramis knew exactly how that felt. He had died inside watching first Athos and then the lad go down. “Tis something I hope never to see again.” Shrugging a shoulder he tacked on, “At least not at the same time.”

“Oh that makes me feel so much better, Mis,” Porthos growled, which earned him a light shrug from his friend.

Hearing the door quietly open, Aramis turned around. Upon noting the arrival of Captain Treville, he started to stand up only to be waved back down by his commanding officer.

“I just peeked into Athos’ room for a moment,” Treville whispered, not wanting to wake the boy. “Since he was asleep I thought to check on d’Art.”

“Baptism by fire for our kid ‘ere.”

“Tis to be hoped, Porthos, that this _baptism_ won’t be repeated for some considerable time.” Grabbing another chair, Treville joined the two soldiers in their vigil.

++++

Meanwhile Bertrand and Jeanne had been busy rallying the villagers together into removing the barricades. The other Musketeers, along with Captain Roussel, had taken care of the wounded and helped put to rest the ones that had lost their lives.

Taking a moment to relax, the younger Musketeers took stock of the town. Thankful that they had been able to keep losses down to a minimum, the soldiers considered this a win for their side. Of greater import to them had been the injuries dealt to their lieutenant and the young Gascon. They kept taking turns visiting the inn to check on how both were doing. Greatly relieved to know that the wounds Athos and d’Artagnan sustained were not life threatening, they couldn’t wait to get back to Paris.

++++

_Back to D’Artagnan’s room_

When he slowly awakened, d’Artagnan became aware that he wasn't alone. A smile tugged at his lips, noting the precarious position papa Aramis was currently in. The older man's long legs rested upon the end of the bed, while leaning back in a chair balanced on the back two legs. D'Artagnan refrained from saying a word for fear that it would startle papa therefore making him tip backward to land on the hard floor.

Turning his head to the left d'Artagnan noted papa Porthos was resting his head on his arms, which were on the bed as well. Both men were no doubt worn out from the battle. As for papa Aramis, he not only had been in the midst of the fighting but now had to tend to the injured. Noting Captain Treville was in the room as well, d'Artagnan would have figured there were more things of import needing done than staying here with him.

Tentatively touching papa Porthos' sleepy head, d'Artagnan watched as it jerked upward. Speaking softly, so as not to wake papa Aramis, he needed to ask a question. "Is papa Athos going to be okay?"

Kissing the top of the kid's head, Porthos grinned. "First words outta your mouth ain't about yourself. Shouldn't surprise me much." Making sure he hadn't spoken to loudly, Porthos looked across the bed at Aramis' slack features. "Mis said it was a through and through and Athos would mend all right." Chuckling softly he added, "I fear for the rest of us, runt, while Athos recuperates. "'E'll be right 'ard ta live with for a bit but I guess we'll survive the fallout."

"And me?" Noting papa Porthos' smile turned slightly crooked, d'Artagnan wondered what was behind it.

"Ya aimin' ta give us all heart attacks I can see that now, d'Art."

"That's not what I asked." Noting that papa was getting nearly as good as papa Aramis on dancing around the subject, d'Artagnan waited to hear about his own condition.

"Mis told us that the poignard didn't go in all the way." Doubting he'd ever forget that moment as long as he lived, Porthos expressive eyes grew wet again. "We got Roussel to thank for that." Seeing the question in the whelp's eyes, he explained. "That scalawag shot Edmond in the chest as soon as Roussel realized what that brat was about ta do or it would 'ave gone a lot worse for you, runt."

"I'll have to thank him for that later." Glancing at the glass of water by his bedside, d'Artagnan tried to reach for it. Not getting far as a lance of fire made itself felt in his lower right side reminding him of his wound, d'Artagnan heard papa Porthos clucking almost like a certain mother hen they all knew and loved.

"All ya 'ad ta do was ask for it, kid." Helping his son to sit further up in the bed Porthos handed the boy the glass. "You're gonna be hurtin' for a time til' Mis gives the okay for ya ta run around again givin' us all gray 'airs."

A slow grin spread across d'Artagnan's face, eyes twinkling with mirth. "I have some life advice for you if you want it."

Snorting, Porthos sat back in his chair. "Ya 'aven't lived long enough to give anyone _life advice_ but fire away, squirt." Sharing an amused look with the captain, he couldn't wait to hear this one. 

"Don't worry about the gray hairs, papa, just remember all the good times you had putting them there." Refraining from laughing because of his side, plus he didn't want to wake papa Aramis, d'Artagnan watched papa Porthos' facial expression change to one of disbelief. While Captain Treville covered his mouth to no doubt stifle his laughter as papa Aramis was still asleep.

"Kid, I don't consider ya gettin' stabbed as a _good time_."

"Just trying to lighten the mood." Yawning, d'Artagnan gave papa the puppy-eyed treatment.

"Okay, youngin', ya want ta lay back down. I gotcha." Helping the lad settle back under the covers, Porthos gently ruffled d'Artagnan's hair. "Some of us are stayin' overnight. Though Captain Treville is goin' back ta the Garrison with Monet, Dandre and Germain in tow."

Drowsy, d'Artagnan heard papa's words. Before falling back to sleep there had been something that had been troubling him, wanting to voice it. "I killed some of them," he mumbled into his blankets.

"I wish ya 'adn't 'ad ta do any of this in the first place." Porthos made sure the boy was tucked under the covers just right before he left. "It's a harsh reality but you'll eventually learn ta live with it." Going to the door, Porthos then turned back to watch the whelp drift off. "Ya just started earlier than most." With those whispered last words he closed the door quietly behind him, leaving the captain and a still snoozing Aramis alone with the kid.

++++

_Early eve_

Walking past the room that Athos had been given Porthos heard a loud crash against the closed door, coming from within. Cautiously he took care opening it. On the floor laid a heavy empty mug. Taking in the picture of Aramis glaring at an unrepentant looking Athos, Porthos guessed at what had happened.

"Do not just stand there!" Rolling his eyes, Athos motioned the larger man forward. Uncomfortable did not even being to describe how he felt. Again slapping Aramis' hand away from his wound, he glowered. "Porthos, he keeps poking at it." Practically whining out his complaint, Athos badly wanted to get out of bed. "Could you not take Aramis away with you? I do not trust myself not to do him an injury if he keeps this up."

"I'd like to see you try," Aramis huffed. "You can barely move that arm."

"I would find a way," Athos countered.

Struck dumb, Porthos looked from one friend to the other. "I'm not sure about comin' in the middle of this one."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Aramis hummed. "Normally a good laugh, a long sleep and a huge cup of coffee are the three best cures for anything." Ruefully shaking his head, lips pursed, he airily waved a hand in the air. "But these aren't _normal_ circumstances, Athos." Pointing a finger at his injured comrade, Aramis returned the glare. "As you very well know." Turning an about face, he then smiled pleasantly.

"And that is another thing," Athos grumbled. "You forever go around _smiling._ It has become most annoying of late."

"Ya know Athos 'as a good point." Tilting his head to one side, Porthos studied the marksman. "Even when there's nothin' ta be 'appy about ya sometimes go on smilin'."

Folding his arms Aramis' amused eyes crinkled up in the corners, as his smile grew ever wider. "Always _smile_ , mes freres, as much as possible. It will make people think you're," he knocked on the side of his left temple, "insane so they won't ask you to do things."

"I would have never guessed you could be so underhanded." Gently touching his wounded shoulder, Athos' scowl deepened.

"There are depths to me that have yet been plumbed." With a casual wink and a wave, Aramis left the two men alone.

"I'd be shocked if Mis ever changed," Porthos chuckled. Focusing then on his older brother, he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Glad we're leavin' on the morrow, Athos?"

"As soon as I have words with Bertrand I shall be more than pleased to leave Pinon behind me forever." Grimacing from the pain in his shoulder, Athos swore. " _Merde!_ "

"Want me ta get Aramis ta make up more of that pain draught for ya?"

" _NON!_ " His reply was a tad more explosive than he had intended. "Apologies," Athos dipped his head slightly. "They tend to make me muddled headed." When Porthos burst out laughing Athos frowned, raising one brow high. "I had not intended my comment to be a cause for amusement."

Slapping his thigh, Porthos was still laughing. "Ya don't need Mis' draughts for that, mon ami."

"Are you insulting me?" Not knowing whether to join his friend's mirth or not, Athos mockingly glared at the other man.

"Oy! I'm not brave enough ta yank your chain." Gaining his composure Porthos needed to tell Athos about the arrangements for transport on the morrow. "Now that I'm 'ere, I'll let ya know that we're goin' ta ready a wagon for ya and the whelp for when we leave." Athos didn't bother hiding his relief, as Porthos could see. He knew very well that his friend couldn't wait to be away from this town. "I'll make sure it's padded extra special so ya don't turn the air blue," he chuckled. "Don't need ta teach d'Art anymore bad habits than the runt's already picked up from all of us."

"Do not try to imitate Aramis," Athos snorted. "His taunts are bad enough. Besides you are no good at it."

"I've overstepped my welcome I see so I'll just leave ya alone with your miseries." Going out the door laughing Porthos heard his friend swearing again.

++++

_Once more back to d’Artagnan’s room_

“I leave you alone for a short while,” Aramis took in all the people surrounding his son’s bed, “and what do I find when I come back but you holding court that even King Louis would envy.”

“You’re being silly.” Everyone joined in d’Artagnan’s laughter. Wincing from the discomfort that it caused him, he reminded himself not to do so in the future until his wound healed.

Jeanne had served the boy a light dinner, not knowing if he’d be up to eating very much yet. Mabella had come along to keep Jeanne company. Then shortly after the boy had finished his repast, Darley, Henry and Tumas walked inside the room.

If Aramis didn’t know better he’d say that the young people perhaps felt slightly guilty for his son being injured. After all they were the ones responsible for d’Artagnan’s presence in Pinon in the first place. Aramis was always able to get a read on people simply by observing their body language. Facial expressions, gestures, the way a person held themselves, all told their own story. “Aside from wanting to check on you again, d’Art, I needed to tell you that on the morrow Athos intends to speak with Bertrand. Then we’ll all be leaving for home.”

“Is Athos truly still of a mind to give La Fere lands to all of us, Aramis?” Prior to the fight with Baron Renard, Jeanne’s papa told her Athos insisted he was turning over his estate, and all the surrounding property, over to the people of Pinon. She had thought the former Comte would have changed his mind about it.

“Jeanne, all I know is that Porthos mentioned that Athos was going to meet with your père before we depart for Paris.” This time when Aramis checked the boy's injury he decided it was time again to change the linen wrappings. It didn't take up much time to do so. When he had finished, Aramis placed a hand on top of d'Art's head. “Get some rest, pup."

"Constance is going to be really, really mad when she finds out I got hurt won't she, papa?"

"Oh I'd say she'd have to take a number, d'Art. By the time everyone else is done with you perhaps her temper would have cooled down." Aramis could tell the lad wasn't thinking too clearly yet by the confused expression that crossed d'Artagnan's face, or the youngster would have realized what Aramis meant. So he ticked them off in order of import. "Their Majestys... the Dauphin... Cardinal Richelieu... the entire Garrison... even the palace staff..." he stopped when the pup began rolling his eyes. "You understand... oui?"

Aramis' answer came in the form of the lad pulling blankets over his head, as if trying to hide away from the world. D'Artagnan's actions told him, more than any words ever could, that indeed the pup had understood the message and wasn't going to look forward to returning back to Paris.

It was going to be a very interesting homecoming for d'Art. Whistling, Aramis was about to leave his son with the other young people. Before doing so, he glanced at Jeanne. "Don't keep him up too late. We're leaving quite early."

“We won’t tarry much longer,” Jeanne smiled back. “I’m finding that we’re all going to miss d’Art and he hasn’t even left us yet.” A chorus of agreements rang out from Jeanne’s friends following her remark.

“He has that way about him.” Thinking fondly of all the people his son’s life had touched, making them the better for it, Aramis grinned. “You should have seen how adorable a pup he was at three years of age.”

“I bet.” Amused at the image that presented in her mind, Jeanne’s eyes slid toward the bed where her friends were conversing with the boy. “Rather a handful too I’d gather.”

Rolling his sparkling eyes, Aramis took one last look at his son before departing. “You have no idea.”

++++

_Next morn_

“Thought you’d change your mind about all that nonsense.” Not believing what Athos previously had told him, Bertrand held tight to his daughter’s hand.

“I never say anything I do not mean.” A raised brow instantly followed by a scowl, Athos stared hard at Bertrand. “Tis not _nonsense_ either.” From his position, situated beside his son in the wagon, Athos nodded his head at the piece of paper he had just handed over to Bertrand. “I am deeding La Fere and all the holdings that go with it to everyone here.” His shoulder ached fiercely, reminding Athos that he was not at one hundred percent and not to overdue. “I wish you all well for I shall not come this way again.”

“Papa might not,” d’Artagnan piped up, “but that doesn’t mean you’ll see the last of me.”

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ” Shooting the lad an irritated look, Athos wondered at the cheekiness d’Artagnan exhibited. “I may have something to say about that,” he grumbled, while laughter surrounded him.

“Athos, if’n the kid wants ta come back ta visit I’ll tag along,” offered Porthos, trying to placate his brother.

“And I’ll come along,” Aramis chirped. “It never hurts to visit the country every now and then.” Bowing, Aramis tipped his chapeau at Jeanne and her père. Glancing sideways at Athos, he smirked. “Remember… I like it here.”

Burying his face in his hands, Athos listened while d’Artagnan began laughing. “Tis not amusing, pup.”

“Not to you maybe,” d’Artagnan fired back.

“Brat.” There was no heat behind his words. Why Athos was in the minority on this he didn't know. Sighing in resignation, Athos wondered why lately he always seemed to be in the wrong.

"You have to excuse our friend," Aramis put in. "Athos never did have much of a sense of humor." Chuckling at the raised eyebrows directed his way, Aramis dared to tease the older man further. "Anyone would be able to tell with just one look at you, mon frere."

"Oh really," Athos drawled. He was getting tired of being the butt of Aramis' jests.

"Tis as obvious as the nose on your face." His dark eyes full of mischief, Aramis drove his point home. "A sense of humor makes a man handsome." While Athos glowered at him, Aramis preened for his audience.

Aggravated by the marksman's teasing words, Athos thought to get some of his own back. "I wish that I could go back to the day I met some people," he stabbed Aramis with a dark look, "and walk the hell away!"

Placing both hands over his heart, Artamis pouted. "You have wounded me deeply, mon ami." He waved a hand toward some of the villagers that had gathered to say farewell. "What are they to think?"

"If it looks like I give a damn, please tell me, Aramis. I do not want to give off the wrong impression." Wondering if it was time for their departure, Athos dared a look at his son. The brat was still laughing.

"Ah bien." Sadly shaking his head at Athos, Aramis gazed woefully at his audience. "You see what I have to put up with." Amused laughter reached his ears, while Aramis mounted Belle. Before he joined Roussel and Porthos at the head of the wagon, he turned in the saddle. Locking eyes on Bertrand and Jeanne, his dark orbs held a silent promise of returning to Pinon.

++++

_Notes:_

_Dieu soit loue_ – Thank heavens  
_Famille_ \- Family

 _Quote: “If I promise to miss you, will you go away?”_ – from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.  
_Quote: “You sound better with your mouth closed.”_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.  
_Quote: "Life Advice: Don't worry about the gray hairs just remember all the good times you had putting them there."_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "A good laugh, a long sleep and a huge cup of coffee are the three best cures for anything."_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "Always smile as much as possible. It will make people think you're insane so they won't ask you to do things."_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "A sense of humor makes a man handsome."_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "I wish that I could go back to the day I met some people and walk the hell away."_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "If it looks like I give a damn, please tell me. I don't want to give off the wrong impression."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, still early morn, Paris - The Inseparable’s residence_

Furious knocking at the door had Aramis racing to open it, not sure who was on the other side, thinking someone was delivering an urgent message to them. No sooner had he done so when he found himself with an armful of a sweet smelling lady. What he hadn’t expected was the verbal abuse aimed at him from the lovely Constance.

“Why didn’t you or Porthos, for that matter, send word to me that all of you had arrived safely back?” Pushing herself away from his chest, she stood her ground across from him. “I thought I was your friend!” Tapping her left foot impatiently she tacked on, “I feel I’ve said that one to many times before!”

Invading his personal space, her palm itched to slap the handsome Musketeer. “I had to find out from Captain Roussel!” Constance huffed. “He at least did me the courtesy of coming to my home to inform me!” Walking around Aramis in a circle, she grew angrier. “Athos and d’Art are just as much my famille as yours!”

Stopping a few times to stamp her feet, she placed hands on her hips. She was beginning to rethink about physically assaulting Aramis. It was becoming more than palatable by the moment. “See this hand?” Showing him her right one, Constance’ eyes narrowed. “Tis going to descend in an arc that will, in the process, have contact with your face.” A look just shy of being considered dangerous crossed Constance’s features. “Just warning you!”

Normally Aramis was a font of patience. Not so much now as it flew out the window. Tired of listening to her rant, he did the only thing he could think of… and covered her mouth with his own. The kiss lingered on for a time. So long in fact that when they broke apart both of them were quite breathless.

With a puzzled frown, Constance stared into his unfathomable, dark eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“Aside from the obvious reason?” His smirk instantly vanished, upon noting the twitching of her right hand.

Punching his chest playfully, Constance grinned. “I enjoyed it. No need to worry about a stinging face.”

“That’s a relief.” He smiled down at her. “In answer to your question,” releasing Constance from his arms, he tilted his head to the side studying her, “because it seemed a good idea at the time.” Noting her brows draw together, no doubt trying to figure him out, Aramis kissed her forehead. “And because I wanted to.”

Brushing back a stray curl from her face, Constance straightened her dress. “Word spread fast once Captain Treville returned last eve.” Her gaze shifted to the closed doors leading to d’Artagnan’s and Athos’ rooms. “Everyone’s been so worried about them.”

“Put yourself at ease, ma chere.” Taking her into the kitchen Aramis seated Constance at the table. “Porthos went to the market for some fresh eggs so I could prepare our breakfast.” Noting her hands fly to her mouth covering it, he was curious as to what he had said that caused that reaction.

“In my haste to be here I left a hamper full of food for all of you back home.”

“Merci beau coup.” Kissing his fingertips, Aramis was pleased. “You are as kind as you are beautiful.” Her eye roll brought an answering grin to his face.

Waving his complimentary words aside, Constance snorted. “Pish posh! No need to butter me up.”

“I’m not prepared to eat you for breakfast quite yet,” he raised a brow. “so why would I need to _butter you up_?” Hearing her charming giggle lightened his heart. “And I shall be happy to escort you back to your place to pick up the food. No sense in you making another trip alone to see us.”

“I don’t expect to be robbed on the way here, Aramis. Your house isn’t that far from the city.”

“But you never know what canaille could be waiting to pounce.” Digging out a cast iron skillet, he glanced at her. “Better safe than sorry.”

Nodding her head, her expression turned serious. “Now tell me all that happened while you were away.” Raising a finger Constance shook it at him. “Don’t leave anything out. You never need to worry over my sensibilities.”

“I know you’re not the fainting type and one of the few women I believe when you say that, Constance.” So while waiting for Porthos' return, Aramis filled her in on what transpired in Pinon. In the meantime his brother had returned which allowed Aramis to begin making their breakfast.

Every now and then, Porthos would add his own commentary to Aramis’ version of events that had taken place. Albeit a more colorful one than his own. But why not? It never hurt to do so and always made for a more interesting tale. Though when Aramis caught Constance’s eyes resting on him, he figured that she didn’t believe certain things happened the way Porthos described.

“After you’ve all had your breakfast could I see them?”

Slapping his forehead with the hand that held a fork, Aramis nearly took his left eye out. Which wouldn’t have done, of course, as he was the Garrison’s sharpshooter. How would he have explained that mishap to the captain? Turning to her he apologized. “Forgive my lapse, Mademoiselle,” he bowed to her. “Would you care to join us? That is if you haven’t eaten yours yet.”

“I would love to.” Pointing to the fork Aramis held, she grinned. “That’s a formidable weapon. I’d be careful if I were you.”

Dramatically sighing he remarked, “Everyone’s a critic.” It didn’t take Aramis long to prepare the omelettes. Then he gave Porthos two platefuls, having added fresh fruit to them. “Our invalids need to keep up their strength.” When his friend came back, they dug into their own food.

Helping Aramis wash the dishes, something which she knew he was annoyed over as he kept repeating that Constance was a guest, she ignored his trying to shove her away from the sink. “A little water won’t melt me.”

“Must I repeat myself?” he huffed. Frowning when she grabbed a towel from his hands, Aramis leaned against the sink. “Do you ever do what you’re told?” Her evil grin spoke volumes, as he left the rest of his words unsaid.

When Constance had finished, she went straight to check on her young friend.

++++

_D’Artagnan’s room_

Sitting up in bed, d’Artagnan was restless after having had breakfast. His right side ached more now than it had before he’d left Pinon. Putting it down to the wagon ride, he figured it hadn’t done him any favors. He wondered if papa Athos’ injury had been just as aggravated. Good thing home had only been an hour away or both of them wouldn’t have fared very well.

Alex was curled up beside him. It seemed that any movement on his part put her on full alert. Apparently his time away had made her miss him. Also d’Artagnan wondered if somehow she sensed he had been hurt.

Rubbing behind Alex’s ear, d’Artagnan used his free hand to pick up a book that had been placed on his night stand by papa Porthos. Flipping through the pages when Constance popped in, he placed the book on his lap.

Constance was pleased to see d’Artagnan but upset along with that. She just wasn’t happy over what had happened to him. Standing at the foot of the boy’s bed, she hoped her expression reflected her feelings.

Gulping down words he had been about to say upon seeing her, d'Artagnan's spirits deflated considerably when Constance seemed on the verge of reprimanding him.

"Porthos and Aramis told me everything." Perching herself on the bed near the lad's head, Constance let loose. "With all those other Musketeers around you what were you thinking going off like that to charge this baron's son?" Pausing for breath, she brushed a stray lock of hair from d'Artagnan's face. "Didn't you realize the danger you put yourself in? Or the position you put Aramis and Porthos in having to watch that happen?" Throwing her hands up in the air she bounced off the bed. Staring down at him, Constance wasn't yet finished. "What would we have done, foolish boy, if you had died?"

Struck dumb, d'Artagnan simply listened to her go on. Everything Constance had said was true. He hadn't thought of himself only of papa Athos. There wasn't anything he could say in his defense, so he maintained his silence.

Once Constance started, she realized nothing could stop the words from pouring forth. Surprised that she rendered her friend speechless, Constance felt badly. Afraid of what next would come out of her mouth she dropped a kiss on top of d'Artagnan's head instead, then quickly departed.

++++

_Athos' room_

From the corner of his eye, Athos observed a flash of skirts entering his room. Noting Constance's flushed face he assumed she either had crossed words with Aramis, something that always happened when those two got together, or something else untoward had happened. " _Constance_." Only one word but a wealth of meaning went behind it.

"Oh, Athos!" Grabbing the hand he held out to her, Constance squeezed it tightly. "I've made a hash of speaking with d'Art."

"I could not find it in myself to take him to task over it yet." Giving her a lopsided smile, he pointed toward a chair for Constance to sit upon. "After all d'Art's rash action saved my life. Even if I am unhappy with the way he went about doing it."

"I've heard Their Majestys nearly went into shock when Captain Treville explained everything to them." Biting her lip, Constance sighed. "The poor Dauphin turned white as a ghost or so some of us heard."

"I am confident to leave others to lay into the lad for the foolhardy risk he took."

"Leaving you to be the good guy eh, Athos?" Sharing in mutual laughter, the rest of Constance's time was spent listening to an in-depth account of what happened at Pinon from the older Musketeer's perspective.

++++

A short time after Constance left with Aramis, he reappeared back at the house with the huge hamper that she originally had wanted to bring along the first time. Going into the kitchen Aramis began taking items out of it. While he was doing so, Aramis heard voices coming from the main room. Figuring they had more visitors, he continued on with his task.

++++

When Porthos went to the door his mouth fell open seeing the mixture of Musketeers and Red Guards hanging around their place. Some were even hovering around their barn. All Porthos needed was for their own horses to get riled up, if one of those nitwits were foolish enough to enter the barn. When his eyes settled on the coach with the king's royal crest on it, Porthos then understood the reason for the soldier's presence. Unable to find his tongue, he could only watch Their Majestys exit the coach. When they were within touching distance, Porthos cleared his throat.

"I guess tis safe to say we've left Porthos quite speechless eh, Anne?" Chuckling, Louis patted his wife's hand that lightly rested upon his arm.

Before Porthos remembered his manners a petit dark haired boy brushed past him, running inside the house.

" _Louis!_ " Anne shouted at her son but it was too late. "Tis polite to wait until you're invited inside." She said the words anyway, even knowing the boy couldn't hear them.

Bowing, Porthos proudly greeted them. "Welcome ta our 'ome." Stepping aside to let the royal couple enter, it was then he heard Aramis call out from the kitchen.

"Whom was it this time!"

"Ya better come 'ere and see for yourself, Mis!"

"Where's d'Art's room?" questioned Louis dancing from foot to foot, anxious to see his best friend.

Placing a hand on the child's shoulder, Porthos steered the Dauphin in the direction of the whelp's room. Walking past Aramis along the way he saw how astonished his brother appeared. Whispering as he passed the marksman Porthos said, "The king and queen are 'ere as well."

" _Mon Dieu!_ " Running a hand through his curls, Aramis looked about the house which was just as disheveled as he felt. "Place is a mess and the royals decided to visit," he muttered but went out to meet them with a bright smile plastered on his face. "This was an unexpected call, Your Majestys." Bowing, Aramis then led them to the main area of the house.

"We wanted to see for ourselves how d'Art and Athos were," King Louis said.

"Both of them may not recover from the shock of your presence in our humble home." Chuckling, Aramis was pleased his comment brought about answering smiles from the royal couple.

"We were most anxious," Queen Anne added. "Especially over the wound d'Art sustained."

"Knowing neither of them were in any shape to be received at the palace, I thought it wouldn't hurt to pay a visit." Looking about the room, King Louis appeared to like what he saw. "All of you have done nicely with your home."

"Actually," with a shrug of one shoulder, Aramis pulled a face, "since being away at Pinon we haven't had a chance to do any housecleaning."

Queen Anne's eyes danced. "Do not worry so. I think your house is very charming." Touching the Musketeer's arm, she leaned in closer to whisper in Aramis' ear. "You should see our petit's room. It takes three maids to clean up after him." Listening to her husband snorting softly, Queen Anne rolled her eyes.

Clapping his hands together, Aramis grinned. "I feel so much better now." Guiding them in the same direction Porthos had taken with the Dauphin, he wondered how surprised his son would be at the royals just dropping in on them.

++++

_D'Artagnan's room again_

Bouncing up and down on d'Artagnan's bed, Louis was most happy to see his best friend again. He really had missed him and worried over him too. "Show me your wound. Go on show me!" He didn't realize his words sounded more like a command than the request it was meant to be. Which left Louis wondering why d'Artagnan rolled his eyes at him.

"Get off the bed first, Louis, so I can pull down the blankets." When the child did so d'Artagnan lifted up his night shirt, exposing his right side to the boy.

"May I touch it, d'Art?" Fingertips about to reach out at the puckered flesh froze mid-air, upon his friend's words.

"Non," d'Artagnan shook his head. "Tis still really sore."

Pouting, Louis climbed back upon the bed. "Did it hurt?"

Raising a brow, d'Artagnan stared at the younger boy in disbelief. "What do you think?"

"Tell me how it happened." Stretching full out on the bed, laying on his stomach with his chin propped up by his hands, Louis was all ears.

" _Louis!_ " snapped Anne when she stepped into the room, "stop badgering d'Art."

"I can't believe all three of you came to see me." Oui d'Artagnan was friends with Louis, Anne and their son, but they had never visited his home before in all the years gone past.

"We were very concerned over you," Louis grimly said, "and of course Athos as well." Eyeing his son bouncing like a ball upon the bed, he crooked one finger at the petit. Pointing to a spot near his side, where Louis wanted the child to plant himself, he watched his son cease his play to obey him.

"What possessed you to do such a thing that resulted in you getting stabbed?" Sitting upon one of the chairs Anne leaned over to tuck a strand of long hair behind d'Artagnan's ear.

"I had to save papa Athos and there wasn't time to think... just act."

"This is becoming a pattern I do not like," Louis frowned. "One of which I don't care to see repeated in the future." None of them could wrap the lad up in cotton wool, no matter how much they would have wished to. "Of course when you join my regiment tis entirely another thing." Realizing how that might have sounded, Louis corrected himself. "Not that I want to see you injured but I believe you know what I mean."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Louis." Plucking at his blanket with nervous fingers, d'Artagnan was tired of being raked over the coals for saving a life. Especially that of someone dear to him.

Realizing he had upset his very young friend, Louis patted d'Artagnan's leg hidden under the covers. "At least you're on the mend. I am much relieved on that score." Watching how tenderly Anne was touching the young Gascon's head, Louis cleared his throat. "I believe now I'll go visit with Athos." Glancing over at his wife he asked, "Do you want to come along or stay here, ma chere?"

"I'll join you." Anne stood up, straightening her dress. "I believe tis safe enough to leave our son with d'Art." Taking a few steps toward the door she stopped. "Then again I've never seen a child get into so much mischief in so short a time." Hearing d'Artagnan laughing warmed Anne's heart, as she left the children to themselves.

++++

After some considerable time, the royals left the Musketeer's home. It was over an hour and a half later that another unexpected visitor came to call, rapping upon the door.

" _Merde!_ " Porthos swore. "Mis, get the door!" Bellowing his displeasure he waited for his brother to appear. He couldn't get anything done around the place, with the way people kept showing up.

Huffing, Aramis glared at the larger man. "Your legs work just as well as mine do!" Still he was the one that yanked the door open, a fierce scowl covering his face, ready to turn away whomever was on the other side. That was until he noted another great personage standing there. Mouth working a few times, uttering not a sound, Aramis collected his wits. "Your Eminence." Dipping his head he looked into the cardinal's amused eyes. "This is indeed a day for surprises."

"I came to see d'Art." Following the Musketeer inside the house, Richelieu's keen eyes didn't miss a thing. "Of course I would like to check on Athos as well."

"Oh... _of course_ ," Aramis murmured. He knew full well it was really the pup Cardinal Richelieu was more concerned with, just as it had been for the royals. Constance had been another story though. Porthos and Athos considered her their petite soeur. Him, bien, that was an entirely different kettle of fish. One of which he hoped not to spoil with past behavior.

"Who the 'ell is it this time?" Striding into the main room, Porthos came to an abrupt halt when he saw their guest. "Why are you here?" His words were abrupt but that was the mood he was currently in.

"Well," Richelieu drawled knowing exactly what had previously occurred, "heaven didn't want me and hell's afraid I'll take over." Noting the two stunned men didn't know how to respond, he eased the tension by chuckling at his own quip. Immediately Porthos and Aramis joined in with hearty laughter.

"Sorry about that, Cardinal." Apologizing, Porthos' sheepish expression wasn't lost on His Eminence. "Rather been an unusual morn around 'ere."

"Oui, I already know about the royal's visit." Indeed it was he that made sure there were enough guards ordered to attend Their Majestys and the Dauphin. "I waited an appropriate amount of time to do so myself after they had returned to the Louvre." Handing off his cape to Aramis, he smiled. "I gather you've had other visitors as well?"

"Constance," Porthos offered. "'Aven't even 'ad time ta do much else around 'ere but entertain guests." Knowing his words sounded a tad churlish, he grimaced. If Porthos started sounding like Athos, they wouldn't have to worry about people turning up. "I meant what with just gettin' back from Pinon and settlin' the whelp and Athos into their rooms..." voice fading away, because really there was nothing more left to be said, Porthos could tell His Eminence understood.

"I shall try not to overstay my welcome." Following after Aramis, Richelieu had intended his visit to be a short one to begin with.

"Do take your time, Cardinal," Aramis kindly said. "Porthos and I will tend to other matters while you're here." Taking His Eminence to his son's room first Aramis knocked upon d'Artagnan's door before opening it to let the cardinal through. Feeling that his presence wouldn't be wanted, Aramis left them alone.

Standing over the boy's bed, a nerve pulsed near his left temple. If d'Artagnan only knew that usually indicated that Richelieu had been greatly disturbed. Upon his own arrival back to Paris having gotten word of the young Gascon's latest escapade, Richelieu had thought upon tearing his own hair out. "Do you not value your own life, child?"

"Oui, I do," snapped d'Artagnan. He was fed up with everyone coming down on him today. "I saved papa Athos and I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Feeling more than belligerent his chin jutted out, daring the cardinal to tell d'Artagnan that he had been wrong to do so.

Stroking his mustache, Richelieu's eyes momentarily filled with amusement. "I gather I'm not the first one to ask you that," he dryly remarked.

"Papa Athos, Captain Treville and Captain Roussel so far are the only ones that haven't." Scowling down at his blankets, d'Artagnan shrugged. "Papa Porthos alluded to me giving him a heart attack and so far papa Aramis ticked off everyone that would be upset with me."

"As I'm quite sure they are allowed to be," Richelieu said. "As for Athos, mmmmm," he hummed, while stroking his mustache again. "Why bother admonishing you when others could do it for him." Oh there was the child's pout. He hadn't seen that look on d'Artagnan's face in a long while. "All right, I'll let it go for the moment and leave my scolding for the Red Guards."

Sitting on the edge of the bed he placed a hand on the lad's shoulder. "Fill me in on what happened back in Pinon." So for a time Richelieu sat with the youngster. Satisfied upon learning all that transpired, he stood up. "His Majesty and I are of a like mind to strip Baron Renard of his title and holdings for taking the law into his own hands." Ah, what do you know? It seemed he was still able to take d'Artagnan by surprise. "I forgot to inform Porthos and Aramis of that, which I am going to do so now. Then I'll visit with Athos." A grim smile hovered about his lips. "I might even throw Renard into the Chatelet now that I think more upon it."

Stunned at what the cardinal just told him, d'Artagnan listened to the older man humming again as he left the room.

++++

The news they received from the cardinal over what would happen to Baron Renard came as a relief to both Aramis and Porthos. They hadn't had time yet to find out what Athos thought of it but figured their brother would agree that it made great sense. That was one thing that had preyed upon all their minds, while they journeyed back to Paris. Concern had filled them that Renard would strike back at the villagers of Pinon after all the Musketeers had left. They only wished they could be there to see the baron's face when the man was officially stripped of titles and lands to possibly even be tossed in the Chatelet. What goes around comes around and there wasn't anyone more deserving than Renard.

When the cardinal departed, both men thought that would be the end of it for the day... they were wrong. A hard tapping at their door indicated, once again, someone had come to see d'Art and Athos.

"I'm ready ta strangle somethin' or someone," Porthos growled low in his throat.

"Don't do it yet until we see our caller, mon ami." Upon opening the door, Aramis shouted out to his friend. "Porthos, go ahead and start strangling!"

Joining him, Porthos peered over his brother's shoulder to stare into a pair of rather bemused green eyes.

"An unusual type of greeting I must say." Smacking her lips together, Milady tilted her head to the side. "Were your words to Porthos meant for me? Because if so, Aramis, I'm truly frightened." Her light laughter followed her into the house, as she brushed past the marksman. "I've heard you've had your quotient of guests this morn."

Leaning against the wall, Aramis drummed his fingers steadily upon it, while studying Milady's attractive features. He still didn't fully trust the woman. Could be he was simply prejudiced against her because of Athos. But that was neither here nor there. "Why don't you go see d'Art and leave Athos alone." It was a gentle warning and he noted Milady had understood it when her eyes flashed with irritation.

"I hadn't intended on visiting Athos," she snapped back. "Though tis a tempting thought now that you brought it up." Two could play at that game, Aramis. "I do hope though that my ex-husband fares well."

"As long as ya stay outta 'is room 'e will." Porthos didn't stand on ceremony. He always put his feelings out there.

"What do you boys take me for?" Holding up one hand, she smirked. Looking down her nose at them, Milady snorted. She was tired of being judged by the likes of these Musketeers and their _All for One_ stupid rules. "Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely," Milady grinned, "being an ass is easy." Sending both men a pointed look, so they were in little doubt she had meant them, MIlady continued. "Being a _bitch_ takes style." Feeling that she had shocked them enough, Milady tapped Porthos on the chest with her fan. "Do take me to d'Art now."

Words failing him from the blow to their egos, Porthos silently led her to his son's room.

Slipping past Porthos' large bulk Milady observed the boy sleeping, or so she believed, until his eyes snapped open to stare back at her. When d'Artagnan motioned her closer, Milady dragged a chair over to the bed.

"If you're another one coming to tell me how idiotic it was in saving papa I don't want to hear it."

"I've simply come to reassure myself that you'll live to grow up to be exactly like Athos." An insincere, mocking, look entered her eyes. Taking note that the lad appeared unsure of the meaning behind her words, Milady kept silent.

"There's an insult to papa somewhere in what you said I bet." Scowling at the woman, d'Artagnan wished Milady would leave papa Athos out of the conversation completely.

"Sometimes the thoughts in my head get so bored," highly amused, Milady winked at him, "they go out for a stroll through my mouth." Drolly she added, "It rarely ends well."

"You and I," d'Artagnan paused, when a twinge of pain made itself known, "we met for a reason. I'm still not sure the whys of it." Wincing, as he tried to get into a better position, d'Artagnan shook a finger in her face. "You're either a blessing or a lesson."

Howling with laughter Milady had to give the lad credit. He was quick on the uptake. Helping the youngster, before d'Artagnan damaged himself further by moving about, she plumped up the pillows behind his back so he could rest better. "Now, young man, tell me all the juicy details. I'm just sorry I was away and hadn't heard about this until I came back to the city. I believe my talents would have been welcomed."

Doubting papa Athos would have welcomed her help, d'Artagnan started off telling Milady of his kidnapping...

++++

 _Petite soeur_ \- little sister

 _Canaille_ \- scoundrel

 _Quote: “See this hand? It’s going to descend in an arc that will, in the process, have contact with your face.”_ – from Sarcastic Quoes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.  
_Quote: "Why are you here?" / "Well... heaven didn't want me, and hells afraid I'll take over."_ \- from Sarcastic Quoes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.  
_Quote: "Gentlemen, being an ass is easy. Being a bitch takes style."_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "Sometimes the thoughts in my head get so bored they go out for a stroll through my mouth. It rarely ends well."_ \- from Aunty Acid.  
_Quote: "We met for a reason. You're either a blessing or a lesson."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter you will see I'm using events from Season 1, Episode 5's The Homecoming with my usual twists. So usage of dialog will appear here and there. 
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, late morn now – still at the Inseparable’s residence_

As good as her word, Milady departed without antagonizing Athos. However she couldn’t let an opportunity slip by, popping her head past his door to wish him a speedy recovery.

His shoulder was hurting like a bitch so with that on his mind it was a huge surprise to him noting Anne’s face peeking past his door, leaving him utterly without a witty response on his lips. In fact she had disappeared so quickly that Athos thought he had imagined seeing her and hearing her words as well. It made sense though that Anne would turn up to see his son. By the sounds of things she and d’Artagnan were becoming friends of a sort. Whether Athos should stop the furthering of it remained to be seen. For now getting back upon his feet was uppermost on his mind. Perhaps he would eventually learn to live with her in his life again. However long that would be remained to be seen.

++++

Finally a calm settled over the household and Aramis and Porthos were able to put things back in a semblance of order.

“I think the two of us did that right fast, Mis.”

Slinging a dirty rag over his shoulder, Aramis grinned. “Cleaning is just putting stuff in less obvious spaces, mon ami.”

“Yeah.” Snorting out gruff laughter, Porthos went to check on their invalids.

++++

A month later found Athos back on limited duty. D’Artagnan, however, had been allowed back to school after only a few weeks of inactivity which, at the time, drove the boy crazy. Now he was up to his usual hi-jinx again with his best friend.

In the meantime arrangements had been made to celebrate Porthos’ thirty fifth birthday. The festivities were going to be held at the Garrison during the evening hours, because it always ended up being a boisterous affair. It would have been nice for Captain Roussel to have attended, but his voyage to China had already been delayed with their efforts to rescue d’Artagnan. Then with everyone ending up fighting for the people of Pinon, Roussel was delayed even further. So it was that the privateer had already set sail the day after everyone returned to Paris.

++++

_Porthos’ natal day celebrations – Garrison courtyard_

“I never understood the reason for papa Porthos to shoot a melon from papa Aramis’ head.” It wouldn’t be something d’Artagnan would do, and he always thought it crazy that papa Aramis agreed to it since papa Porthos was always in his cups when he did so.

“Porthos has never missed.” Sipping his wine, Athos smiled into his mug. They always had this conversation and he always gave the same reply.

"But papa's had a lot to drink." Drinking from a smaller mug, d'Artagnan wrinkled his nose at the bitter taste of his own wine.

"He has never done it sober," Athos drawled, noting the expression of distaste on the boy. "Something wrong with your wine?"

"This isn't at all like what we have at home or at the Louvre."

"You are acquiring expensive tastes, pup." Raising his mug in the air in a toast, Athos chuckled when d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "Aside from the king's finest, I do try and buy the best vintages for our own home."

Emptying the contents of his mug onto the ground, d'Artagnan decided to enjoy the entertainment.

Just when Porthos took aim at the melon, Aramis held up a hand for him to wait. Twirling the ends of his mustache Aramis then signaled that he was ready.

Swaying slightly to one side, Porthos straightened up and took the shot hitting the melon dead center making it explode. Bits and pieces of it went all over the place including Aramis' curly locks which didn't appear to bother the marksman as he pleasantly smiled at everyone until...

"Mis, 'ow about I try it blindfolded next?"

D'Artagnan, Captain Treville and Athos all burst out laughing, when Aramis' smile faded at his brother's outrageous suggestion.

Strolling over to Athos, taking the proffered mug of wine from his friend, Aramis shook his head. "Porthos asks me that every year and every year I turn him down."

"Porthos is nothing if not persistent," Treville drawled, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.

"Aramis," pecking him on the cheek, Constance leaned her head on his shoulder, "tis late and I have to be at the palace early on the morrow."

"Then, my lady, I shall escort you home." With an eye also on his son, Aramis tapped d'Artagnan's shoulder. "Time for your bed too, young one."

"I am rather tired and have lessons to attend in the morn." Glancing over at papa Athos, d'Artagnan waited to see if he would be coming along too or staying here with papa Porthos.

"I shall accompany you, child." Waving a hand to gain Porthos' attention, Athos shouted, "Are you coming with us so you could catch up on your beauty sleep, mon frere?"

Hearty laughter shook Porthos' solid frame. "Beauty sleep is a lie," he scoffed. "Everyone looks like crap when they first wake up."

"I take offense at that, Porthos." Peeking up into Aramis' face, Constance grinned. "Guess since tis his birthday I won't slap him silly."

Gently patting the hand that he held, Aramis smiled down into her amused eyes. The lanterns hanging all around the Garrison bathed her pretty features in a soft, warm glow. "There, there. I'm sure another time shall present itself." With both of them laughing now, they went to get their horses.

Remaining behind to continue celebrating, Porthos waved goodbye to them. Walking around the courtyard he wondered if any of his other comrades would be interested in taking Aramis' place. First, Porthos had to find another melon.

++++

_Next morn_

Waking up beside a dead body wouldn't make anyone's day, less alone a Musketeer that just celebrated his birthday the eve before. Unfortunately for Porthos, that's exactly what happened. Stumbling to his feet, head aching madly from more than just heavy drink, he found himself surrounded by a group of Red Guards.

A big burly Red Guard barely glanced at the deceased body, stepping over it he walked toward the soldier's still weaving figure. "Musketeers," he gave the dark-skinned man a mocking smile, "always good for a little street theater."

"It's not what it looks like," Porthos said, hoping that it really didn't appear to look like what it was.

"Non," the guard sneered. "So what is it then?"

It ended up with Porthos taking on all the Red Guards and losing the fight because he was heavily outnumbered. Being dragged off to the Bastille wasn't how he expected his morn to begin.

++++

_Later at the Bastille_

Having been told that their friend had been taken to the Bastille, both Athos and Aramis didn't waste any time to see Porthos. They wanted to hear directly from him what had happened to land their brother in jail, before they informed their son. But after talking with Porthos they found that he had no idea what had taken place. All the man knew was that the authorities thought he had murdered someone.

Porthos' own memories were nothing but one big blur, compounded with a headache from hell every time he tried to remember last eve.

"Treville is going to take this matter to the king." Seeing Porthos behind bars left a bad taste in Athos' mouth. It didn't do his blood pressure any good either.

"In the meantime tis to be hoped we have luck with the judge." Smiling with a confidence that he really didn't feel, Aramis prayed that it would be so.

++++

_Royal Palace_

"D'Art, how old is Porthos?" Waiting for their next lesson to begin, Louis was bored and asked the first thing that came to mind.

"I asked him that one day and papa told me that he really never knew when he had been born."

"How could he not know?" Scrunching up his face, Louis didn't understand.

"I've told you before that papa Porthos was born in the Court and his maman died when he was a mere petit." Wondering how many times he had to remind his young friend of that, d'Artagnan continued. "Not knowing anything about his own père, papa had no one to tell him."

"That's so sad, d'Art."

"Oui, I agree, Louis." Casually shrugging one shoulder d'Artagnan added, "So when papa was a child he simply decided to pick out a day for his birth. Said that one day was just as good as another to celebrate it." When their teacher began clearing his throat, d'Artagnan knew he had to be quiet or else they'd both get extra homework.

++++

_Courtroom_

While Captain Treville headed for the palace to inform King Louis upon what had transpired, in hopes of His Majesty intervening, Athos and Aramis were stunned at the outcome of Porthos' mockery of a trial. The judge turned out to be a holy terror. It carried no weight with him that Porthos was a Musketeer. When the judge ruled their brother guilty, and to have the sentence of execution carried out immediately, they were in a state of shock. While standing by, feeling useless, they watched Porthos being dragged away in chains. Only thing Aramis and Athos could do was pray the captain would get back in time to stay the hanging.

++++

Once the guards had Porthos outside of the courthouse, they were taken unawares by a group of masked men. It was an unexpected rescue and one which Porthos welcomed thinking his brothers were behind it, that was until he was royally knocked out.

Chasing after them Aramis took a shot, killing a man that had been with the group. By that time Porthos and his kidnappers had completely disappeared. Squatting down beside the body he examined it. While he did so, Aramis noted the brand of a fleur-de-lis on the body's arm. Staring up into Athos' angry face he said, "Tis the mark of a criminal."

"I am well aware of what that means, Aramis!"

Wincing, Aramis should have realized that before opening his mouth. Athos, better than most, knew exactly what the mark meant. "Then you know as well as I where they went."

++++

_Scene of the crime_

“Treville still has not returned from the Louvre.” Making a quick decision, Athos told his brother they’d go back to where the dead man was found.

Squatting down, Aramis’ keen eyes scoured the immediate area. “Where’s the blood?” Glancing up at Athos’ drawn brows he said, “I saw a man take a musket ball in a street fight. The contents of his skull painted a pretty picture all around.”

“And our dead man had been shot in the head and yet there is not a drop of blood or shard of bone,” Athos supplied. “Which means that he was not shot here.”

Standing back up Aramis tapped his friend’s arm. “Perhaps we should pay a call on the victim himself. See what he has to say about it.”

++++

_Royal Palace_

Having spoken with the king, Treville had his orders to see that Porthos was released. Louis had been furious that anyone thought one of his Musketeers capable of killing an innocent citizen. Especially with this being one of his inseparables and d’Artagnan’s père.

Before leaving the Louvre, Treville had permission to take d’Artagnan with him. Famille should be together during a time of crisis. Also he knew the lad would be most upset if this was kept from him.

++++

_Morgue_

During their visit with Poupart, Athos and Aramis discovered the name that went with the dead body. One Jean De Mauvoisin, a young man of the nobility. What or why he was in that part of Paris and outside of The Wren was something of a mystery. Having been in a discussion with Poupart, on the condition of the deceased, Aramis surmised that the man had indeed been murdered at close range. While Aramis distracted Poupart with his opinions on the manner of death, Athos pocketed a key that had been one of the things in the young victim’s possession. It may prove a valuable tool later.

++++

When they left the morgue, much to their surprise, they encountered Captain Treville waiting for them along with their son.

Noting twin frowns marring his men’s faces Treville held up a hand, forestalling questions he was fully aware would pour forth. “I felt the lad should be here with you both.” A quick glance at d’Artagnan’s pale features started to make Treville re-think his gesture. Still he knew the boy was extremely worried. “Considering what the youngster had experienced of late I believe he’s more than man enough to help us with our problem.”

“What did the king have to say, sir?” Not sure he agreed with Treville’s decision to bring the boy into this, Athos reserved judgment for later.

“His Majesty was to have had Porthos released immediately. He was absolutely beside himself with fury that your brother had been arrested in the first place.” Noting tension easing from both men, Treville filled them in on the rest. "In the meantime we are to look for the real culprits behind this murder.” Slapping his chapeau against his leg, his blue eyes grew stormy. “What I didn’t expect to find upon my return was that Porthos had been taken away to places unknown.”

“It may have been a blessing in disguise since the judge ordered Porthos’ execution right after he passed sentence.” Noting all color leech from the older officer’s face, Athos’ lips tightened together.

“He had no right!” Wanting to kick the judge where it really hurt, Treville counted to ten trying to calm himself. “I doubt he’ll be feeling so high and mighty when I inform King Louis about this travesty of justice.”

“We do, however, know where Porthos was taken,” offered Aramis.

“One of the men we killed that took Porthos was branded with a fleur-de-lis,” Athos explained. “They brought our brother to the Cour des Miracles.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Treville shook his head. “At least we know he’ll be safer there than on the streets of Paris right now. Just in case anyone wants revenge against him.”

“All the more reason to catch the ones responsible.” Folding his arms, d’Artagnan stared at each of the men in turn.

“I fully agree with d’Art.” Smiling at the boy, Athos’ eyes crinkled up in the corners. “We did discover our victim’s name from Poupart though.”

“He was Jean De Mauvoisin,” Aramis said, noting the captain’s frown.

“Emile De Mauvoisin is his père,” Treville grimly announced. “They were once amonst the great familles of France but have since fallen on hard times.” Waiting for his men to digest this he gave them an order. “I want all of you to call on Monsieur De Mauvoisin to inform him of the death of his son.” Turning away from them Treville headed for his horse, shouting over his shoulder, “Find out who would have killed his son!”

++++

Later having done as Captain Treville wanted, they came up empty. So with d’Artagnan still with them Athos and Aramis took the youth along to Jean De Mauvoisin’s residence to see what they could turn up there, if anything. Using the key Athos had taken when at the morgue, they tried the door but it wouldn’t budge. Making sure everyone was clear of it, Aramis took out his pistol and fired at the door. “That’s one way of getting in.”

“You could have tried knocking.” Raising a single brow, d’Artagnan rolled his eyes at the noise that had been created.

“Mmmmm,” Aramis politely hummed. “That’s true.”

Entering the room they began searching it. While doing so another intruder took a pot shot at Aramis who in turn fired back. The man, however, escaped. Shortly after they discovered that the other intruder had been burning papers, no doubt evidence of some type of collusion.

Waving a piece of paper in the air, d’Artagnan questioned what he had found. “Who would want six thousand pounds of gunpowder?” Showing it to his papas, he tapped his chin in thought. “It was bought from a mill outside of the city.” Pointing to who signed for it he said, “Tis Jean De Mauvoisin’s signature.”

Still rummaging about it was Aramis’ turn, finding a paper by a Huguenot preacher by the name of Ferrand. Which he found odd since the De Mauvoisin’s were Catholic. Upon the discovery of that it led them to Pastor Ferrand’s church.

++++

_Pastor Ferrand’s Church_

The inside of the building was rather bland. Nudging d’Artagnan’s shoulder with his own, Aramis pointed to the bare walls. “Religion without art is so much less seductive.”

“In this church we worship God not beauty.”

Turning around the trio discovered a man, simply dressed in robes, standing there staring back at them. They assumed that this then was the pastor.

“At least the Catholic faith allows us a little joy before we die.” Or at least that’s how Aramis always felt about it.

“But we Protestants will have joy eternal at God’s right hand,” Ferrand swiftly countered.

“While you roast in Satan’s inferno.” Thinking he had the last word, Aramis was wrong.

“As all benighted heretics must.” Nodding his head, Ferrand smiled rather crookedly.

When the Musketeers then informed him that Jean was dead, his eyes grew sad. “Poor boy. I will pray for his soul.” Listening to their questions Ferrand emphasized that Jean had been a pious, young soul who wouldn’t cause harm to others. Even though he was extremely upset over Jean's death, Ferrand still had other matters to attend and so left the trio to their own devices.

Meanwhile, there was the matter of a key that had yet to fit any door they had come across in their search. So since the pastor had left them alone they decided to search other chambers of the church. Finally they found a lock the key fitted which led them down into the basement. There they discovered a printing press and barrels of ink. Confusion set in, until they came across other barrels filled with gunpowder. Upon hearing footsteps behind them all three turned around, swords drawn.

“What are you doing here?” Ferrand demanded, holding his own blade.

There are three of us, pastor,” drawled Athos.

“Then you are outnumbered,” Ferrand matched. “For I have God on my side.”

“Oh I do hope he’s good with a sword.” Smirking, d’Artagnan’s blade never wavered. Until they knew otherwise, Pastor Ferrand had lied through his teeth to them.

“Only way to reach everyone in my congregation is through that printing press you see over there,” Ferrand tiredly said, sitting down upon an upturned barrel.

“Do you make it a habit to use gunpowder instead of ink?” questioned Athos with a quirk of a brow.

Clearly surprised upon seeing gunpowder, Ferrand stopped barking at the men and listened instead. When they told him they thought Jean was going to blow up the church, showing him the bill of sale, Ferrand instantly disabused them of that notion. “Tis Emile’s handwriting on that paper. Not his son’s.”

Pushing his chapeau back from his head, blowing out a long breath, Aramis’ puzzled gaze rested on his son and Athos. “Bien, there goes that theory.”

++++

Leaving the church behind them, d’Artagnan faced his papas. “Since I’m welcomed at the Court I’m going to go back to the palace and fill a wagon with supplies to take there.” Noting the older men didn’t appear happy at that, d’Artagnan tried to ignore it. “Once there I could search for papa Porthos. I’m positive they’re simply keeping him safe from all of this.”

“You shall take an escort with you.” Wagging a finger in his son’s face, Athos waited until the lad nodded his head in agreement with him.

“Of course.” His dark eyes twinkling, d’Artagnan was eager to go. Mounting Zad he raced off to the Louvre.

After the child had left, Aramis scratched at his beard. “I’m wondering if we should have gone with him.”

“Normally I would agree but tis of great import to clear Porthos’ name first,” Athos said. “Despite King Louis believing our brother innocent, Porthos would not appear that way to the citizens of France unless we capture the real killer.” Casting a look toward the disappearing view of his son, Athos followed Arams over to where they had tethered their horses. "Plus I would not put it past some _honorable_ citizen to try and bring Porthos in to face justice any way they could."

"They'd have a good fight on their hands if they tried," Aramis bit out. Nudging Belle in the sides he, like Athos, tried to figure out their next move.

++++

_Royal Palace_

Having spoken to Louis on what he wanted to do, d'Artagnan's old friend's eyes filled with concerned. "What do Athos and Aramis think?"

"As long as you give me an escort they're fine with it, Louis."

"There you are!" Walking into the throne room, Constance eyeballed the boy closely. Then belatedly realizing she had not only shouted but interrupted an exchange d'Artagnan was having with the king, she blushed profusely. "Apologies, Sire. Tis just that I suddenly became overcome with the oddest feeling that d'Art was in trouble or about to do something _stupid_."

Exchanging a look with Louis, d'Artagnan ducked his head to avoid her suspicious eyes. "I'm going to bring supplies to the Court and look for papa Porthos while there."

"See!" Again, having forgotten herself, Constance slapped a hand over her mouth. "Once again apologies, Your Majesty, for the outburst."

Waving a hand airily, King Louis was more than amused. Before he could say more to Constance, the lad had something further to say.

"I wouldn't call what I'm about to do _stupid_ either, Constance." Walking toward his friend, d'Artagnan stopped about a foot from where she stood. "How could you have known I was going to do anything at all?"

"Oh, d'Art," she chuckled. "Women know. They just know." Glancing at the king, Constance noted his lips twitching. "Even if they didn't know... they would know." At the boy's eyeroll, she grinned impishly. "Men might not get this, but women will... because they _know_."

"Louis did anything she said make any sense to you?" Skeptically d'Artagnan pondered her words, not sure what to make of them. Feeling the weight of a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently, d'Artagnan twisted his head around to gaze up into an amused pair of dark eyes.

"When you're older and much wiser, d'Art, you'll begin to understand how a woman's mind works." Thinking it sage advice, Louis was satisfied that would appease his young friend. Instead he was slightly taken aback at d'Artagnan's retort.

"That was it? That's all you've got to say?" Huffing, d'Artagnan told himself to quit dithering about and get a move on. Knowing Louis was trying to come up with a witty reply, d'Artagnan held up a hand. "I mean really. You're explanation left much to be desired, Louis." Listening to Constance giggle from behind him, d'Artagnan allowed himself a slight smile. "Now do you think I could go get those supplies?"

"I'm coming along with you too," Constance demanded.

"Non, you're not!" Glaring at her, d'Artagnan shook his head back and forth. "I'm the one safely allowed in the Court, as well as my papas. Flea and her people barely tolerate it as it is when I do come with other guards." Not sure if he was getting through to her he tacked on, "They don't know you and your presence could upset things all the more."

Chewing on her lower lip, Constance gave it more thought. What d'Artagnan said made sense. Still she was worried.

“All right, d’Art.” Conceding to his victory over her, Constance smile was halfhearted at best. “Be careful and bring Porthos and yourself safely back.”

“She summed it up nicely, mon ami.” With an arm casually thrown over the lad’s shoulder, Louis walked with d’Artagnan out of the room. “I shall arrange the guards for your trip immediately while you get the supplies.”

All three of them parted company, going off in different directions. But it was Constance’s dark thoughts that weighed heavily upon her conscience. Wishing Aramis were here to speak with, she prayed fervently for the youngster.

++++

_Cour des Miracles_

Once at the Court, d’Artagnan jumped down from the wagon. Greeted by several older men that lived within the rickety buildings one of whom was Lucien, d’Artagnan now counted as a friend, he watched as they eagerly unloaded the wagon with help from several of the Musketeers and Red Guards that had accompanied him.

Flea was at the top of d’Artagnan’s list to start questioning. If anyone knew where his papa would be it was she. But before he could even take a step from the wagon he heard a familiar squeak. Turning around d’Artagnan nearly had heart failure at the shocking sight before him. Now he completely understood what his papas go through when worrying over him. There squirming within Lucien’s hold was his best friend.

“ _LOUIS!_ ” d’Artagnan cried. “ _Mon dieu!_ _Are you crazy?_ ” Running a hand through his hair, he grimaced. “Why am I asking you that? Of course you are for pulling a stunt like this!” Taking the petit off of Lucien’s hands d’Artagnan shook the child gently. “You have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever!”

Thinking that once Anne and Louis discover their son was missing all hell would be breaking out at the Louvre. Stomach rolling, d’Artagnan went over to one of the guards while not breaking contact with his younger friend. “Honore, I hate to have you leave but the Dauphin needs to be taken back to the palace.” The older man was one of the Musketeers sent to be d'Artagnan's guard, one his papas knew well and trusted fully.

It was at his friend’s words, upon sending him back home, that drove Louis to break free of d’Artagnan’s grip on his arm. Weaving in and out of the long winding corridors of the Court, his smaller body disappeared from view even before anyone could react.

“I’m going to kill him!” Wanting to scream, but refraining from doing so, d’Artagnan didn’t want to lose sight of the real reason he was here. “Honore, Joubert, Pascal, don’t worry about guarding me just find Louis. He is your top priority now.” Glancing at several of the Red Guards, none of whom d’Artagnan knew, he gave another order. “I want all of you to go after Louis as well.” None of them needed to be asked twice.

He would have words to say to the petit when he was caught. Because of Louis wanting a bit of fun the child may have jeopardized d’Artagnan’s chances of finding papa Porthos. He doubted very much that the people that lived in the Court were going to enjoy having Musketeers and Red Guards running amok inside their haven. D'Artagnan truly hoped that he'd be in a better frame of mind, by the time Louis was found, otherwise he may say something to the child that would shatter their longstanding friendship.

++++

Elsewhere in the Court, Porthos had been spending time catching up with his old friend Charon who had pulled off that rescue at the courthouse. Though Porthos had a lot to say about how it had gone off. With Flea here as well it felt like he had never left the Court. Porthos still had a major problem with his memory, with not being able to remember what happened the eve of his birthday. Drawing a blank whenever his mind drifted to it, Porthos didn't know how he was going to clear his name. For darn certain as soon as he showed his face in the city, Porthos knew he'd be arrested. He was glad to have brothers like Athos and Aramis out there because he knew no stone would go unturned in proving Porthos innocent.

++++

_Back in the city - Monsieur Emile Mauvoisin's residence  
_

Having met up with Captain Treville again all three of them paid another visit to Monsieur Mauvoisin's home.

Observing the nobleman closely, Athos thought Mauvoisin acted like a grief stricken parent would. But the man was awfully quick to blame his own son being in bed with Huguenot fanatics that were planning on attacking Catholics.

While Athos and Aramis continued to question Mauvoisin, Treville did a bit of investigating on his own in another part of the house. Thumbing through a ledger he had discovered, Treville stumbled across something most unexpected. Reading page after page of what appeared to be a listing of hundreds of houses inside the Court, they had all been bought for a mere pittance in the last few months.

Tapping a finger upon the ledger, Treville gave it more thought. The land those houses occupy covered most of the Court. The paper value was immense if there were a way to make this all pay. Then it hit him. The land alone would be worth a king's ransom if the Court were gone. Now Treville had a very good idea of where that gunpowder was going to be used.

Re-joining his men Treville approached Mauvoisin. "Be honest with us, Monsieur," his voice hard, Treville stabbed the older gentleman with a withering look. Shoving the receipt for the gunpowder into Mauvoisin's hand he said, "We have it on good authority that's your handwriting and not your son's."

"Oui, that's my signature." Mauvoisin wasn't worried because shortly his plan would be put into motion.

"I'm going to tell you what I believe," Treville snapped. "I think you decided to throw your lot in with a group of powerful people to blow up the Cour des Miracles for the land value." Treville wasn't done yet and pressed on. "Somehow this is all tied up with my Musketeer being in the wrong place at the wrong time and taking the fall for your son's death."

Listening to what the captain was saying, Athos and Aramis realized that it meant all that gunpowder was already at the Court. Which meant that Mauvoisin had to have had help from inside the Court to accomplish that.

" _WHEN?_ " shouted Athos at the silent nobleman. "When was your plan to be executed?"

"Mid-day," Mauvoisin replied. They would be too late, but there was no need to tell them something they already knew.

"There's not much time." Frantically looking at Athos, Aramis feared for Porthos' life.

" _GO!_ " Treville roared at his men. If anyone could stop this travesty from happening it was Athos and Aramis. When they had raced out of the room, Treville turned his attention back on the nobleman again. Snatching the receipt for the gunpowder from Mauvoisin's hand he waved it in the air. "Explain this if you would."

"Jean knew what I wanted the gunpowder for and he refused to purchase it for me." Not meeting Treville's eyes, Mauvoisin lost himself in the memory of what happened.

"It was you that planted that gunpowder in Pastor Ferrand's church," Treville accused. "Why?"

"Ferrand ruined my son. Turned the boy's head all around. Jean even began feeling sorry for that riff raft living in the Court," Mauvoisin spat. "This real estate project was meant to see us out of poverty so that I could restore the famille name."

"Who really killed your son?" That was the burning question and Treville would be damned if he left here without a satisfying answer!

"I did."

Nothing should surprise Treville any longer but this man's admission did. Getting over his initial shock he made Mauvoisin sit down to write a letter of confession, admitting his guilt thus exonerating Porthos. While Treville waited, his gut clenched with worry that what Mauvoisin had wanted would come to pass.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: “Cleaning is just putting stuff in less obvious spaces.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Beauty sleep is a lie. Everyone looks like crap when they first wake up."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Women know. They just know. Even if they didn't know, they would know. Men might not get this, but women will...because they know."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day and time - Cour des Miracles_

While all the guards scattered to give chase after the Dauphin, d'Artagnan meanwhile carried on with his original plan to find Flea first. The path he took was as familiar to him as his rapier. Having been to the Court many times delivering supplies. Which meant that it took d'Artagnan a lot longer to locate her because everyone wanted to stop and speak with him.

When d'Artagnan finally managed to get to Flea's place, it was empty. Upon leaving, he ran into Lucien again. "Do you know where Flea is? Better yet, do you know where papa Porthos is?"

"Charon saved 'im," Lucien replied. "'E was there at the trial. 'E and Porthos used to be thick as voleurs back in the day."

"I'll have to thank him later then." It was the first time d'Artagnan had ever heard the name Charon before. "But first I want to see papa."

"I think Flea, Charon and Porthos went down ta the docks earlier." Scratching a scar that marred the right side of Lucien's face, he knew the lad was worried.

Scared that perhaps papa feared for his own life and had decided to be smuggled aboard a ship to escape, d'Artagnan lost all color.

Seeing that, Lucien shook the youngster's arm. "I doubt it's what you're thinkin', d'Art. Porthos probably was bored ta tears and is just takin' in a breath of salty air." Chuckling, Lucien patted the boy's back. "Let's go see shall we."

Following the older man, d'Artagnan was sick with anxiety. First and foremost for papa. Second for the whereabouts of his best friend. The friend he'd like to lock up in a room and throw away the key on.

++++

_Royal Palace - King Louis' chambers_

Frantic with fear, Anne barged in on a private meeting Louis was having with Cardinal Richelieu. When both men turned annoyed faces toward her she clasped her hands tightly together, praying she wouldn't end up screaming at them like a fish wife more than a queen. "Our son is missing again!"

Grinning, Louis settled back down upon his chair. "Is that why you are so unsettled, Anne?" At her nod of affirmation, he tried to set her mind at ease. A quick glance at the cardinal though told Louis that Richelieu wasn't pleased at the interruption. Bien, the man could wait. Comforting his wife came first.

"Ma chere, our petit does this on a regular basis," Louis reminded her. "Oftentimes I believe he's testing our guards simply to see how well they're trained." Noting her frown deepen he wittily chirped, "Do not frown so, ma cherie d'amour, you'll create wrinkles, and wrinkles should merely indicate where the smiles have been."

Not in the mood for levity, Anne glared at her husband. "I have had the palace and outside grounds searched from top to bottom including our child's favorite hiding places." Not having time for Louis' nonsense, vexed, Anne stared unblinkingly at her husband until he began to squirm from her heated gaze.

"Did anyone come to call here at the Louvre today?" Not wanting to add more fuel to an already stoked fire, Richelieu needed to satisfy his own questions he had yet to voice.

"The only one so far was d'Art who had an idea that Porthos had been taken away to the Court for safekeeping." Hit with an awful thought, Louis shared an alarmed look with his wife. Upon noting her eyes widen in distress, a conclusion that he believed Anne came up with as well.

Richelieu's shrewd gaze didn't miss the agonized expressions passing over the royal's faces. "What else happened when our young Gascon came?" Having been apprised  earlier of the situation with Porthos, he had knowledge of what had transpired at the courthouse. That judge would rue the day he had passed sentence on one of the king's Musketeers. There was always room at the Chatelet. Perhaps that would make the man see the error of his past judgments.

"D'Art took a wagon filled with supplies to the Court thinking that he could then seek out Porthos." Drumming impatient fingers upon the arm of his chair, Louis noted the cardinal's agitation growing.

" _Oh_ _mon Dieu_!" Raising his eyes heavenward Richelieu squeezed them tightly shut. Upon opening them, he noted the same horror he felt reflected in Their Majesty's features. " _The Dauphin hid in the wagon!_ "

"Tis what I'm thinking also," Anne agreed. "Even so, once our son was discovered d'Art would have instantly sent the petit back to us with the guards." She tried her best to come to terms at the thought of young Louis running wild in the Court.

Considering when d'Art left here," going over to one of the windows to look out, Louis frowned, "those guards would have returned with our son by now if that was the case."

"Unless something untoward prevented that from happening." Muttering low under his breath, Richelieu still knew the royal couple heard his words.

"I shall have more guards sent to the Court to find out what the Deuce happened to our son!" Marching out of his chambers, King Louis barked out orders to his men.

++++

_Back to the Court_

On the docks, d'Artagnan raised a hand over his eyes to cut off the glare of the sun. Scanning the area, he didn't see papa anywhere in the vicinity. A nudge to his shoulder from Lucien had him following the older man's finger. Noting the small group of people Lucien had pointed to, far off to the right, d'Artagnan was glad his Court friend had been with him. "My thanks, Lucien."

Running over to them, d'Artagnan cried out, " _PAPA!_ " Soon he found himself enveloped in a bear hug that he thought would crush his ribs.

"What are ya doin' 'ere, runt? Not that I'm not glad ta see ya and all."

"You're not a wanted criminal any longer," d'Artagnan blurted out. "Louis was going to have Captain Treville demand your release from the judge that wrongly convicted you."

"Bet the captin' was madder than all get out findin' the judge ordered me ta 'ang immediately." Almost choking on those words Porthos controlled his emotions, not wanting to upset his son.

"Oui, he was and when papa Athos and papa Aramis told the captain what happened to you after that," d'Artagnan paused, a slight smirk gracing his lips, "I don't envy the repercussions that's going to come the judge's way."

"Bet King Louis' gonna 'ave somethin' ta say to that judge 'imself too," Flea laughed. She was delighted that His Majesty stood up for men like Porthos who earned his rank and standing in the Musketeer regiment.

"Anyway we tried to find out who murdered that man and and oh boy I think we opened an entire can of worms doing so!" Noting all three adults staring back at him, clearly puzzled, d'Artagnan continued. "The victim was Jean De Mauvoisin, son of the former well to do Emile De Mauvoisin. By the time I left to get get supplies to bring here fingers were pointing at the son because he had bought six thousand pounds of gunpowder."

"Why so much?" questioned Porthos. "Sounds like someone wantin' ta start a war."

"At the time our thoughts were that Jean wanted to blow up Pastor Ferrand's church. One of which the deceased man had belonged to." Confusion crossed more than one face at d'Artagnan's words. What surprised him was that the man standing closest to Flea, whom he didn't know, showed a lack of emotion.

"A religious war then." Nodding his head, Porthos realized it was nothing new or original.

"I was allowed to come here to look for you while the others were finding the real culprits behind the murder." Grinning, d'Artagnan whispered in papa's ear. "This way you won't be shot on sight by some eager citizen thinking they'll get a reward."

Robust laughter burst forth from Porthos. Throwing an arm about his son's shoulders, he pulled him in close. "I wanna introduce ya ta the mastermind behind my escape." Pushing the whelp forward, his chest puffed out with pride. "D'Art this 'ere is Charon. We grew up together."

"I'm happy to meet you, sir." Dipping his head, d'Artagnan noted a guilty look quickly come and go from Charon's face. Still the man acted pleased to meet him.

"Can't say the boy favors you, Porthos." An evil grin lit up Charon's features. "The youngster's lucky." At his jest, they joined in Porthos' hearty laughter.

"There is just one slight problem." Not able to meet anyone's eyes, and feeling guilty as sin, d'Artagnan felt his chin lifted up to meet papa's concerned look.

"Whelp, it'll eat ya up if'n ya don't get it out."

"Somehow young Louis hid himself in the wagon I was delivering supplies in today." Looks of utter dismay d'Artagnan received were clearly written upon the adult's faces. "When we discovered him there I was going to have one of the Musketeers immediately take him back to the palace." Deeply sighing, he wondered if this day could get any worse. "But then Louis ran off." The curse papa offered was one d'Artagnan never heard used around him before. Realizing if he were ever to repeat it, within hearing distance of his papas of course, d'Artagnan's mouth would be washed out with soap.

"The Dauphin runnin' around this place unescorted!" With both hands on her flushed cheeks, Flea felt her stomach churn.

"Kid, we gotta find 'im before 'e gets 'imself 'urt or worse." Ushering his son back through the passageways into the Court, Porthos prayed the Dauphin would be found unharmed.

++++

Splitting up, Porthos and d'Artagnan went in one direction, Flea and Charon took another, while Lucien and a few trusted others headed for some unlikely avenues the petit may have taken.

During their hunt, d'Artagnan discovered something he had not expected to. Coming out of a room, that must have been used for storage purposes only, he got papa's attention with a shrill whistle.

"Tell me ya found the boy." Thoughts of what could happen to the Dauphin, if found by more unscrupulous canailles, was more than enough to fuel Porthos' nightmares.

"Not Louis, sad to say," d'Artagnan bit his lip. "But you've got to see this."

Following his son back into the storage area Porthos stopped in the center of the room, hands on hips and impatience in every look he gave d'Artagnan. "We ain't got all day!" he complained.

Uncovering his find, d'Artagnan stepped aside. "Remember I told you about the gunpowder." Briefly hesitating, his eyes shifted from papa to his find. "I believe this is it."

"Merde! It ain't got any business bein' 'ere!" Confused, Porthos knew the only one who could give them answers would be Flea.

"Ya stay 'ere and guard it, runt."

"What about you?" Nervous standing around all these explosives, d'Artagnan shuffled away from the barrels.

"Flea's gonna tell me what the 'ell's goin' on around 'ere!"

++++

_At the entrance to the Court_

All hell was about to break loose as Athos, Aramis and five other Musketeers entered the Court. Their mission was to locate Porthos and d'Artagnan, while searching for the missing gunpowder before everything blew up in their faces... literally. Divided into groups Aramis, Athos and Merle were the first ones to stumble into Honore, Joubert and Pascal.

"Why are you not with d'Art?" Knowing that his son would have had a Musketeer escort, Athos waited for a reasonable answer and if he did not like what he heard...

"The Dauphin popped out of the wagon, Athos," explained an uncomfortable and embarrassed Honore. "None of us knew he was hiding in there."

"D'Art was really mad at him this time," Joubert added. "I never saw him ever get that upset with the Dauphin before."

"No sooner did your son tell Honore to take the Dauphin back to the Louvre," Pascal swallowed hard, "the petit upped and ran away from us." Knowing it was a serious situation, Pasal could understand the looks of alarm registering with the others. But there appeared to be something more there that he couldn't put his finger upon.

" _Nom de Dieu!_ " Violently swearing, Athos threw his chapeau upon the ground. He almost stomped on it for good measure, he was that furious.

"Athos, we'll find the Dauphin. Everyone's looking for him." Grimacing, Honore could tell his words didn't comfort their lieutenant at all.

"The Red Guards with us are in the lower end of the Court searching as we speak," offered Joubert, flinching when he was nearly scalded by the blaze of anger emanating from Athos' harsh gaze.

Nudging Honore in the side, Pascal lowered his voice. "There is something more at play here."

Ears as sharp as his eyes, Aramis had heard Pascal's words. "We came to stop someone from blowing the Court into a pile of rubble." Going into a brief explanation, by the time he was done, Aramis' concerns reflected that of every man present.

"Bad enough our son and Porthos are here," Athos ground out, bending to retrieve his chapeau. "Now we have to deal with finding our wayward Dauphin to boot."

Putting their heads together they decided on a course of action. They needed now to locate the other Musketeers, that came along with Athos and Aramis, to let them know about the Dauphin. Also the Red Guards needed to be informed to look out for the explosives. Time was of the essence and they had so little of it.

++++

Staying in one place never sat well with d'Artagnan. Kicking out at a loose stone, he paused upon hearing a slight sound. It could have been any number of things. Such as a mouse or a rat. But as the noise grew louder d'Artagnan changed his mind over it being a rodent. The sound was coming from directly outside this room. With his sword in his right hand, d'Artagnan reached out blindly with his other to drag the person inside that had been lingering about. " _LOUIS!"_ D'Artagnan had been correct, in that it had been a mouse. One of the royal variety. Wanting nothing more than to turn the petit over his knee he refrained from such action.

" _I'm not going back yet!_ " yelled Louis, struggling against d'Artagnan's strong hold.

" _Everyone's looking for you! You foolish child!_ " Once d'Artagnan started his rant he couldn't seem to stop. Relief at finding his friend now gave way to anger. "You had no idea why I was coming here and yet you came along! Now you've caused so much trouble and are in so much danger that I could shake you until your teeth rattled!" Quickly he gave Louis a run down on what was happening. "No thanks to you I've found papa Porthos!" Pointing to the barrels he tacked on, "I've also discovered barrels of gunpowder hidden away here!"

Pausing for breath, he continued to stare at the barrels until it all began to make sense to d'Artagnan. During his tirade, Louis had yet to find his tongue. The child appeared shocked at how furious he was with him. Noting unshed tears pooling in Louis' eyes, d'Artagnan hardened his heart against them. Now was not the time to deal with hurt feelings. "I have to get you away from here now!" Pushing Louis toward the exit the petit fell to the hard ground. Helping to pick the boy up by the scruff of his neck d'Artagnan then brushed some dirt off of his friend's face.

"I'm sorry I angered you d'Art but I don't understand your need to rush us out of here." Pouting, Louis turned sad eyes upon the older boy.

"That gunpowder is going to be used to blow up the entire Court and us along with it if we don't get out of here!" Noting Louis' face lose all color, d'Artagnan wished he hadn't been so blunt. "I have to find papa and tell him that I figured out what the gunpowder's going to be used for!" Racing from the room, d'Artagnan kept a firm grip on Louis' arm. This time his friend wouldn't get away from him.

++++

Having located Flea and Charon, Porthos pulled her aside to question her on what he and the whelp had found. While Flea pleaded with him that she knew nothing about it, out of the corner of his eye Porthos caught Charon's gaze shift toward the exit. Like the man wanted to get away from Porthos as fast as he could. "Why the guilty look, pal?" Getting into his old friend's face, Porthos shoved Charon up against the wall. "Ya know somethin'," he growled low. "Ya never could keep anythin' from me. Why start now?" Eventually Charon spilled his guts filling Porthos with a fine rage. Throwing his former friend into the wall again, he spat, _"If'n stupidity was an illness, you'd be dead by now!"_

Stunned, Flea stared at Charon like she had never seen the man before. "I can't believe you'd take our only home away from us!" No longer could she continue to look at him. It was as Flea turned away from him that Charon launched himself at Porthos.

++++

Elsewhere all the other Musketeers and Red Guards, now on the same page, hunted for both the Dauphin and the gunpowder... in that order. Though d'Artagnan was at the heart of their own search, Athos and Aramis knew the lad could well take care of himself, as could Porthos. But time was running out. Mid-day was almost upon them.

Running into masked men with lit torches, bien that was a foregone conclusion with barrels of gunpowder lying around waiting to be set off. If Athos let them go about their business no doubt they'd be able to locate the missing gunpowder that much faster. On the other hand he didn't want those men to get anywhere near the barrels with those torches. With everyone split up that left Athos with only Aramis and Merle to fight them. Which is exactly what they did. But what none of them noted was a lone figure breaking away, making his escape... carrying a torch still lit within his hands.

++++

Standing over the beaten and bloody body of Charon, Porthos walked away to join Flea.

"Such a crazy and stupid thing for 'im ta do." Still in shock, Flea leaned against Porthos' solid chest.

"Everyone 'as the right ta be _stupid._.. it's just that some people abuse that privilege." Kissing her forehead Porthos' then rested his chin atop Flea's head.

With his back turned on Charon, Porthos had left himself wide open for attack. Something which Charon capitalized on. Rushing at him from behind, Charon held a poignard in his hand aiming for Porthos' back.

At the same time Porthos' name was shouted out by a familiar voice. Twisting around he was just in time to see Aramis run a sword through Charon's body.

Looking down at Charon, Porthos felt Flea's presence by his side. "Charon always wanted more than 'e could 'ave. Thought 'e'd change after all this time."

Having heard his brother's words, Aramis surmised the man he had just killed had meant something to Porthos. Placing a hand upon his friend's shoulder, he looked him in the eye. "People never change. They just become more of who they really are. Remember that."

Shaking himself from his stupor, Porthos then noticed Aramis wasn't alone. Acknowledging some of the other Musketeers and Red Guards that came with his friend, he then remembered another grave matter. "I left d'Art with a bunch of gunpowder we found. That's what Charon and I were fightin' over."

"We found out that we were standing right outside the room holding the explosives, when we came upon others intent on lighting the fuses." Pushing his chapeau back from his head, Athos stared at the man Aramis had just killed to save their brother. "D'Art wasn't inside that room, mon ami." Wondering where the hell his son had gotten to, Athos ran a hand down the side of his haggard looking face.

"At least we stopped one catastrophe." Shrugging one shoulder, Aramis re-sheathed his sword. "The _other_ is still yet to be located."

Porthos knew very well that Aramis referred to the Dauphin. But before he could add his two cents into the pot, the ground under his feet rocked from a loud explosion.

" _Merde!_ " Frightened eyes turned upon Athos. Aramis feared for their son and that of young Louis.

" _Que diable!_ " Running toward where the explosion came from, Athos heart was in his throat. _Do not let it be d'Artagnan_. Athos kept repeating that mantra in his head, until he skidded to a halt. In front of him the corridor was blocked by crumbling debris, from the force of the blast. Listening to sounds of harsh coughing coming from off to the side, Athos twisted his body around. Nearly collapsing at the sight that greeted him he kicked away broken boards and shards of glass, so he could kneel down. Engulfing a dusty, disheveled pair of boys into his arms Athos buried his face in d'Artagnan's filthy hair.

Smiling into papa's face, d'Artagnan gave him a lopsided grin. "Apparently there was more gunpowder than I first discovered."

"D'Art saved my life," a solemn looking Louis announced. He was just as filthy, from head to toe, as his friend.

"I am very much afraid that nothing is going to _save_ you from Their Majesty's." The petit put on a game face, but Athos knew the child was scared silly at what faced him back at the palace.

The others caught up with Athos and were very much relieved to find d'Artagnan and the Dauphin in relatively good health, if somewhat dirty.

Gathering d'Artagnan into their arms, both Aramis and Porthos were beside themselves with happiness that their son had survived. Of course it went without saying that they were pleased about the Dauphin too. Even if the petit had caused everyone a massive amount of trouble.

Porthos couldn't wait to put everything behind him now. "As soon as this day's over I'm havin' a nervous breakdown." Hugging Flea close, he took in the kid's dirt streaked faces. "I've worked for it, I deserve it," he grouched, "and no one is goin' ta keep me from it."

"I believe all of us qualify for that, Porthos." Making plans to remove the still existing barrels of gunpowder to a much safer place, Athos began shouting out orders.

++++

_Monsieur Emile Mauvoisin's residence_

The bells struck the noon hour. A satisfied expression crossed Treville's face. "Twelve o'clock and no explosions." Glancing at the blank look covering Mauvoisin's features, he had an idea what was going on in the older man's mind. "There won't be any now, Monsieur. Tis over. You murdered your son in vain." Nothing but silence met his words. "Now I will escort you to the Bastille."

"That won't be necessary." Standing up from behind his desk, Mauvoisin held out his hand. "May I have the loan of your pistol, Captain?"

Realizing that the next trip Treville would be making wouldn't be to the jail but to the morgue, he handed over his weapon and departed the older man's company. Closing the massive double doors behind him Treville leaned back against them. He didn't have long to wait when a single gunshot rent the air.

++++

_Leaving the Court_

Having earlier kissed Flea goodbye, Porthos had taken a long, hard last look at Charon's body before leaving with his son and brothers. Lucien had told them that they would take care of Charon. Regardless of what the man had tried to do to them, he had been one of the Court since a child. With Athos on one side of him and Aramis on the other, Porthos snorted. "Ya took your sweet time gettin' 'ere."

"We would never let you hang," Athos said out of the side of his mouth.

"Of course not, mon frere." Grinning, Aramis slapped Porthos' back. "And if we had, the funeral would have been beautiful." Kissing the tips of his fingers, he winked at the larger man. An impish light then entered Aramis' eyes. "Did you ever think we would abandon you?"

A slow broad grin spread over Porthos' dark features. "Never." Watching all the guards stumbling over one another guarding the Dauphin, Porthos was glad he wasn't in the child's shoes. "Come on let's get the 'ell outta 'ere!"

Having been informed by papa Athos that it had been Emile Mauvoisin's idea to blow up the Court all along, d'Artagnan somehow wasn't surprised. "I'm happy that his plans had been foiled." Being reunited with papa Porthos and Louis made up for any angst d'Artagnan had gone through during this ordeal. Home never sounded sweeter.

"Failure is a great teacher, and if you are open to it, every mistake has a lesson to offer." Inclining his head, Athos looked at d'Artagnan from under the rim of his chapeau.

"You think Monsieur Mauvoisin learned his _lesson_ , papa?"

"We shall soon find out upon our return to the Garrison." Glancing at the silent Dauphin, Athos' lips tightened. "First we have a special delivery to drop off at the Louvre."

"I so love playing happy familles." All eyes turned upon Aramis, at his words. Splaying his hands out wide, he grinned. "Admit it. Life would be boring without me."

Laughter all the way around, except for the Dauphin, followed the men out of the Court.

++++

_Notes:_

_Voleurs_ \- thieves  
_Ma cherie d'amour_ \- my sweet love  
_Canailles_ \- scoundrels  
_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it  
_Que diable_ \- what the devil  
_Familles_ \- families

_Quote: "Wrinkles should merely indicate where the smiles have been"_ \- from Mark Twain. Samuel Langhorne Clemens (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910) better known by his pen name Mark Twain, was an American writer, humorist, entrepreneur, publisher, and lecturer. Among his novels are The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1875) and its sequel, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885).

_Quote: "If stupidity was an illness... you'd be dead by now."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Everyone has the right to be stupid... it's just that some people abuse that privilege."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "People never change. They just become more of who they really are. Remember that."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "As soon as this day is over I'm having a nervous breakdown. I've worked for it, I deserve it, and no one is going to keep me from it."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Failure is a great teacher, and if you are open to it, every mistake has a lesson to offer."_ \- from Oprah Winfrey (January 29, 1954) is an American media proprietor, talk show host, actress, producer, and philanthropist. She is best known for her talk show The Oprah Winfrey Show.

_Quote: "Admit it. Life would be boring without me."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are going to deal with season 1, episode 4's The Good Soldier. From time to time you may recognize some of the dialog too.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Garrison_

Upon returning the Dauphin to his parents the inseparables, along with their son, reported to Captain Treville. The latter informed them that it had been Emile Mauvoisin that had killed Jean from the very beginning. Showing them the signed confession they were able to breathe easier, especially Porthos.

When Athos had asked the captain whether Mauvoisin had been taken away to the Bastille or Chatelet, a minute wave of Treville's hand stopped further words from pouring forth. Noting how uncomfortable the older officer had become, Athos figured it may have had to do with the presence of d'Artagnan.

With a flimsy excuse for the boy to go check on their horses, Athos waited for the door to close behind the lad before motioning for Treville to continue. The captain then informed them that Mauvoisin had killed himself rather than be imprisoned.

None of them could be bothered feeling sorry for the nobleman, considering everything they had all been through. Once they finished their report on everything that transpired in the Court, the inseparables thought the captain had been on the verge of fainting. Having been occupied with trying to clear Porthos' good name, Treville had yet to have heard about the Dauphin's latest escapade.

Watching their commanding officer go over to the liquor cabinet and drink straight out of the whiskey bottle gave the inseparable's an idea of how Treville felt upon their news. When the captain slumped down in his chair again, waving them out of the office, they then joined d'Artagnan.

"You do realize that was a pathetic reason for getting me out of there." Stroking Tempest's long, dark mane, d'Artagnan missed the grimace crossing papa Athos' face.

"All you needed to know, d'Art, was that Mauvoisin won't be causing anymore problems." Swatting at the boy's rear-end, Aramis laughed as his son easily danced away.

"'Ey, runt," stabbing the whelp with a curious look, Porthos felt uneasy, "what else did ya say ta the Dauphin before we left the palace? 'E looked close ta tears."

"I told him, aside from school, we needed another break from each other because this time there could have been heavy consequences because of his actions." Not wanting to go into details with them, d'Artagnan told them the barest minimum. "Besides I think Louis and Anne are going to have him under lock and key for awhile after this latest stunt."

All Aramis could think of was that if the Dauphin's punishment resulted in being locked up in the palace then he'd trade places with him. Being waited upon hand and foot sounded like a pleasant life to Aramis. Then again being in such close quarters with King Louis, for an extended length of time, may be a bit more than he could handle. Letting his daydreams fade away, Aramis noted Athos rubbing the shoulder that had been wounded, Aramis studied his brother more closely. "Athos, how'd your shoulder hold up during all the fighting?"

Returning his friend's stare, from underneath the rim of his chapeau, deadpanned Athos quipped, "If I woke up and nothing hurt I would think I was dead." Listening to Porthos' great shout of laughter even brought an answering grin to Athos' normally stoic features.

Wanting to put everything behind them, the foursome headed for the canteen to raid Serge's kitchen.

"Ya know I think instead of sayin' _'ave a nice day_ ta everyone," looking over his shoulder at the others, Porthos grinned, "I'm goin' ta start sayin'... _'ave the day ya deserve._ " Winking at the marksman's amused features he added, "And as Aramis 'ere would say... _let karma sort the rest out_."

Patting his growling stomach, Aramis pleasantly hummed. "Let us now go bother Serge for something filling to eat."

++++

_A few weeks later - outside the Louvre_

Bored beyond words, King Louis stared over at Cardinal Richelieu. The latter was standing under the hot sun, instead of sitting upon the raised dais as he and the queen were doing. "We are not accustomed to waiting."

"After five years what's a few more minutes, Your Majesty?" His tone dry, Richelieu couldn't have agreed more with the king's sentiments.

++++

Also standing under the sun's hot rays were the inseparables. Looking out at a point in the distance, Porthos grumbled, "I hate flies and boredom." He continued staring straight ahead. "I do so love parades. I'm thinkin' about faintin' just for somethin' ta do."

Knowing they really weren't supposed to be speaking with one another, Athos glanced sideways at his friend with barely a twitch to his lips. Staring over at Aramis' tense features, Athos asked Porthos, "What is wrong with him?"

"'Ave ya forgotten about the massacre at Savoy?" Seeing that his words fully registered with Athos, Porthos didn't say anything more about it.

Having been allowed to see what it was like to be part of parade duty, d'Artagnan stood alongside his papas. His natural curiosity won him over, upon hearing what papa Porthos mentioned. "What massacre?"

++++

"Just like the Duke to be late." Staring the cardinal's way again, King Louis complained more loudly. "He's always paraded himself as my equal when Savoy's little more than a pimple on France's chin."

Voice dry once more, Richelieu countered by saying, "A strategic pimple of great import, Sire."

"I'm aware of that, Cardinal," King Louis snapped back. "So is the Duke. Otherwise he wouldn't keep us standing around all day."

Knowing it would be senseless to point out to His Majesty that it was Richelieu indeed standing, along with the Musketeers, he ground his teeth together. Praying for divine providence to intervene somehow, Richelieu refrained from uttering a cry of relief when he noted a royal carriage coming toward them.

When the Duke of Savoy and his family exited the carriage, King Louis and Queen Anne went to greet them.

"Victor, I trust your journey was comfortable." Actually Louis hoped it was anything but.

"Dreadful. Your French roads are full of potholes." Stepping aside so his wife could greet her brother, Victor looked on the reunion as something tedious to put up with.

"But it was worth every bump and bruise to see you again." Christine Marie kissed Louis' hand.

"I have missed you, sister, more than I can say." Looking down upon her bent head, Louis felt a lump building up in his throat.

It was after this exchange that a loud shot rang out making everyone jump at the sound. One of His Majesty's attendant's had been shot dead and the others ran for cover.

Having seen some movement over by the bushes leading to the Royal Gardens, d'Artagnan's papas gave chase in the direction he had pointed to. Without bothering to ask for permission, d'Artagnan joined the search.

++++

Having split up, Aramis naturally had to be the one to find himself with a sharp poignard against his throat.

"Bonjour, old friend." Keeping the poignard close to Aramis' neck, and worried there were others close, his tone lowered more. "Don't make me kill you."

Recognizing the voice, Aramis twisted around getting the better of his former brother. "First a deserter and now an assassin!" he hissed in outrage.

"You don't understand!" Marsac pleaded. "Twas the Duke of Savoy who led the attack and killed our friends five years ago!"

With Athos and Porthos closing in, Aramis tried to hide Marsac from view behind a pillar.

"Merci." Happy that Aramis remembered their old friendship, Marsac wasn't expecting what the other man did next.

Not wanting to hear Marsac's thanks, Aramis threw a hard punch at the man knocking the wind from him. Besides, it made Aramis feel so much better. "That's for leaving me alone in the forest with _twenty dead Musketeers!_ "

++++

Victor wanted to postpone the treaty now until the culprit was found which left Louis fuming. "If we had our way we would kick the Duke's pompous ass all the way back to his tiny and ridiculous principality."

"France needs Savoy, lest I remind you again, Sire." Wondering how to control this situation Richelieu and the royals followed behind the Duke's party.

++++

Inside the Royal Palace

Speaking with his minister Gontard, the Duke had something else entirely on his mind... locating his chancellor. "I want you to look into finding out if Cluzet is actually being held captive in a French prison. If France had anything to do with it the cardinal can whistle for his treaty."

++++

Still racing around, having found no one as yet, d'Artagnan was glad to have been separated from his famille. No doubt they would have yelled at him to stay behind with Louis and Anne. Having caught a glimpse of papa Aramis' blue sash, he came up behind him with sword drawn. Catching just a bit of conversation between papa and the stranger, d'Artagnan was confused. "Care to tell me what's going on?"

"I should be asking you that question." Crossing his arms, Aramis tried to act like an outraged parent. "What the deuce possessed you to join in the search?"

"Ummmm," licking his lips, d'Artagnan knew he didn't have a leg to stand on. So he tried for honesty. "It was an automatic reaction to the situation."

Touching the lad's rapier, Aramis whistled through his teeth. "Armed only with a sword too. That wouldn't have done you much good up against a musket or pistol."

It was at this juncture that d'Artagnan wanted to turn the conversation around. Peering over papa's shoulder, d'Artagnan stared at a scruffy looking man huddled against the pillar. His eyes shifted from papa back to the stranger again.

Great, Aramis thought! Just great! He could see those wheels turning around in his son's head. Now what should he do? There was nothing for it, so Aramis proceeded with introductions. "Marsac's an old friend."

"An old friend," d'Artagnan repeated back. "An old friend that just tried to kill the Duke of Savoy?"

"He used to be one of us..." pointing to himself Aramis added, "a Musketeer." As Marsac continued to plead with him, he honestly didn't know what to do. Edging closer to d'Artagnan he whispered, "I need you to keep quiet about this for now."

"Papa, have you gone mad?"

"Possibly," was Aramis' clipped response. "I owe him my life, d'Art."

Considering the circumstances Marsac found himself in, he was stunned to hear that the boy was Aramis' child. "Have you upped and gotten yourself married if this is your son?" It had been five years since he'd last seen Aramis. Things do change, Marsac realized.

"D'Art is my adopted son and that of my two other friends." Pursing his lips, Aramis kept his eyes peeled for his two brothers.

Glancing at the stranger once more, d'Artagnan didn't have a good feeling about him. "Do you think they hang boys my age? If so I'm going to take this very personally." Wagging his finger in papa's face, he tacked on, "And that goes without saying what papa Athos and papa Porthos would do if I got into trouble again."

With a hand over his heart Aramis clapped another on the lad's shoulder. D'Artagnan was growing up faster then he would have liked. It was times like these that Aramis believed the youth had passed from puberty straight to adulthood overnight.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

Furious with Cardinal Richelieu, feeling that this had been one of the man's deadly games, Treville had angry words with him. Granted they had formed a truce, ever since d'Artagnan had entered their lives. Still that wouldn't have stopped Richelieu from his old conniving ways, if the man thought it would benefit the good of France. Treville already bore a ton of guilt over the entire Savoy fiasco. Both he and Richeilieu knew where the skeletons were deeply buried and neither of them ever wanted to see them come into the light of day.

++++

_Constance's house_

Taking Marsac to the only place Aramis deemed safe, he found himself knocking on Constance's door. He knew she had a spare room in her home, simply because d'Artagnan had stayed with her more often than not while growing up whenever he and his brothers had duties to perform.

"So your friend's a soldier then?" She folded and stacked neatly a pile of fabric, while speaking to them.

"A cabinetmaker, Constance." Receiving questionable looks from both Marsac and d'Artagnan, Aramis glared at them silently daring either of them to say anything to the contrary.

"Oui, cabinetmaker of course. That's exactly what I am." Noting the boy rolling his eyes at him, Marsac instantly shut up. Instead he focused his attention on the fact that Constance was a very attractive woman. Eyeing her as she walked past him to go into another room, Marsac was nudged harshly in the ribs.

"She's a personal friend, Marsac," snapped Aramis angrily.

"I'm merely admiring her." Trying to look innocent but failing Marsac realized he certainly didn't need to ruffle Aramis' feathers.

"Make it as far away as possible." As threats go Aramis' was subtle but he was sure the other man got the gist of it.

++++

Leaving the house d'Artagnan's thoughts kept taking him back to papa Porthos' words about a massacre at Savoy. Never having received the answer to his question when they were on parade, d'Artagnan asked again. "What happened at Savoy? I believe I'm old enough to hear it."

Who was he to deny the lad part of himself? "We were camping near the French border during a training exercise. There was no need to be on guard." Staring down into the well, where he and d'Artagnan had slaked their thirst, Aramis got lost in the tragic memories.

"We were attacked in the night. Most of our men killed as they slept. Marsac and I knew we were going to die." Aramis briefly glanced at his son. "We fought side-by-side."

"How did you survive, papa?"

"I was wounded. Marsac dragged me to safety in the woods. He continued to watch the massacre." Running a finger from the side of his face down to his chin, Aramis sighed. "The next morn when I awakened Marsac was sitting with the dead bodies feeling that he too should have died with them. He left shortly after."

Hearing d'Artagnan clucking his tongue, Aramis gave the boy a slim smile. "By all accounts I should have been buried in the regiment's graveyard with my comrades. But I believe God had a higher purpose for me." Tapping the lad's nose he chuckled at the youngster's eyeroll. "You were my _purpose_."

++++

_Later in Captain Treville's office_

The inseparables, with d'Artagnan in tow, presented themselves. Treville still couldn't understand how the shooter had disappeared so easily. Questioning his men, he didn't believe for one second that Aramis had slipped upon wet grass. Ordering Porthos and Athos to guard the Duke, he dismissed them all. Perhaps he should have severely scolded d'Artagnan while he was at it. The youngster could have gotten hurt. Still, Treville didn't have the heart to do so after knowing that the lad had saved the Dauphin's life.

++++

Walking past the Garrison gates, Athos and Porthos had become suspicious of the behavior their younger brother and son exhibited.

"You are both hiding something." Glancing from first Aramis over to d'Artagnan, Athos noted the faintest of grimaces crossing over the child's face.

Looking at papa Aramis, d'Artagnan huffed. "If you don't tell them I will." He didn't like lies to begin with. Conveniently leaving out something, er bien that was a different story.

++++

_Constance's house_

"You brought... a wanted man... a deserter into my... house!" Constance sputtered, very angry with Aramis for having left that detail out.

"Deserter and assassin," Athos added, earning a glare from the marksman.

"Guessin' Mis didn't mention that part." Shooting his friend an ironic look Porthos carelessly shrugged one shoulder, not really sorry he'd mentioned it.

"Failed assassin... technically," Marsac muttered to no one in particular.

Glaring at the man, Constance's blue eyes blazed bright. "Oh you can keep quiet! I don't want to know!" Still her innate sense of goodness made her let the former Musketeer stay.

Marsac's smart mouth nearly had him come to blows with Athos. Aramis simply wanted his older brother to hear the other man out. After Athos calmed down and listened to Marsac, his eyes narrowed. That was a sure sign that Athos wasn't pleased with what he had heard. "Did you hear what he said?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Athos looked at Aramis. "Non, non, I'm listening. It just takes me some time to process so much stupidity all at once." As Marsac continued trying to convince Athos by saying he knew a man who used to be a soldier in the pay of the Duke of Savoy, Athos decided they'd all go check it out.

++++

When they meet with Marsac's informant, he told them how five years ago they killed everyone at Savoy. The former soldier enjoyed the telling of it too. Taunting them with it. With some rough persuasion from Marsac, the man ended up giving them the name of the person who tipped off the Duke... _Captain Treville_.

Not believing it for a second, Porthos nearly took off Marsac's head for badmouthing their captain.

D'Artagnan, who had been standing silently near papa Athos, had a few words of his own to say. "Captain Treville's a patriot... a man of honor. I won't believe him guilty!"

Ignoring the boy, Marsac stabbed the inseparables in the eye. "Don't you want revenge!"

"I want justice!" Aramis countered, running his fingers through his thick hair.

Noting his son struggling with what he heard, Athos placed both hands on the pup's shoulders. "If the words do not add up, tis usually because the truth was not included in the equation."

While the inseparable's talked over what they had just heard, along with their son, Marsac worked over his informant killing him in the process. Which, of course, upset the Musketeers no end making them want to pound sense into Marsac's head. That informant had been their only witness. It had yet to be proven if the man had been a reliable one. Now they would never know.

Talking over what they wanted to do to prove Treville's innocence, d'Artagnan listened intently to what his papas had to say. "So really you'd be doing him a favor?" Quirking a brow upward, d'Artagnan folded his arms. "I hope he sees it that way."

"This," pointing a finger at the child, Marsac snarled, "is not your business! You're a long way from being a Musketeer yet, boy!"

"From what I understand neither are you," d'Artagnan threw back in the older man's face.

Marsac wasn't about to take any lip from the young Gascon, even if he was Aramis' son. Lunging toward the kid, Marsac suddenly found himself up against a solid wall of muscle belonging to an angry, swarthy-skinned giant. The latter shoved Marsac away from the boy, as if he were a mere pesky fly, before any of the other Musketeers had a chance to react.

"Don't go there!" Porthos growled. "Not if'n ya enjoy breathin'!"

"I do not believe Treville guilty and I never will." Taking in the different expressions everyone carried, Athos stared hard at Aramis. "But I will not stand in your way. Do what you have to do."

With a nod, Aramis walked away. "During the massacre I wounded their leader." He motioned with his hand. "A cut across the back. If it was the Duke who led the attack he'll still carry the scar."

Still seething over what Marsac tried to do to his kid, Porthos grabbed the man by the collar. "Listen up, Marsac! I'm a nice person. So if'n I'm an asshole ta ya, ya need ta ask yourself why." Releasing him, Porthos glanced at Athos. "You and I gotta get back to the palace."

"Let us escort Marsac back to Constance's place first then we shall attend to our duties." Keeping one eye on d'Artagnan and the other on Aramis' friend, Athos wished the day already over.

++++

_Royal Palace - Throne room_

Still remembering his earlier mock battle in the Royal Gardens, boasting to Louis Amadeus that the child had lost and France beat Savoy, Louis' face fell upon Victor's disparaging remarks against his regiment.

"A bodyguard of Musketeers," Victor scoffed. "Tis like being protected by wolves."

"You came to Paris to sign a treaty." Thinking he would go mad before the Duke left France, Richelieu counted to ten... backwards.

Pacing about the room, Victor made an announcement. "I will fight a duel with this Musketeer." Pointing toward Athos, he grimly smiled. "If he wins we'll discuss the treaty. But if I triumph then I'll return home immediately."

Too stunned at first to react, Richelieu gathered his wits about him. "Sorry? I assume you're jesting." The Duke appeared to ignore his question. Slowly walking toward the dais, where the royals sat, Richelieu refrained from tearing his hair out by the roots.

"Is this a good idea, Cardinal?" King Louis' lips tightened together.

"That rather depends on the outcome, Sire."

"Whomever draws first blood is the winner." Going over to Gontard, Victor was handed his sword.

Acknowledging the Duke's words with an abrupt dip of his head, Athos took up position. The pace of the duel was fast and furious. As steel met steel, all Athos could think of was Aramis alone with twenty dead brother-in-arms.

++++

_Notes:_

_Famille_ \- family

 _Quote: "If I woke up and nothing hurt I would think I was dead."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Instead of saying 'have a nice day' to everyone I'm going to start saying... 'have the day you deserve' and let karma sort the rest out."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "No no, I'm listening. It just takes me some time to process so much stupidity all at once."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "If the words don't add up, it's usually because the truth wasn't included in the equation."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Listen up. I'm a nice person. So if I'm an asshole to you, you need to ask yourself why."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same time… … same Royal Palace… the duel continues_

His blade cutting through the air with a swooshing sound, Athos sweated heavily. The air in the room suddenly became stifling hot. The only good thing he could note about that was that the Duke was sweating just as much as he.

One thing that struck Athos odd was apparently his reputation had not preceded him as far as the Duke of Savoy was concerned. Though he was not one to boast his prowess with a sword, Athos had wondered if the Duke would have been so quick to pick him out as an opponent if the man had known.

Lunging out at the older man, Athos’ blade caught the sleeve of the Duke’s shirt ripping it all the way down to the elbow. Shame he hadn’t nicked the skin. Then they could have put an end to this farce. For that was how Athos looked upon it. The Duke only wanted an excuse to get out of signing the treaty with their king. Still Athos kept putting the pressure on.

++++

_Elsewhere…_

Milady had been strolling her way around the palace grounds again. Meandering inside the Louvre, she leisurely made her way down the long corridors leading to the throne room. What sounded like swords crossing caught her attention. Her natural curiosity got the better of her and Milady just had to find out what was going on.

Approaching the entrance, Milady found to her surprise that no guards stood outside of it. Which, of course, made it far easier for her to slip inside unnoticed. Taking in the scene at one glance, Milady indulged herself watching her ex-husband at play. Catching sight of Porthos and d’Artagnan, she casually worked her way over to them.

Doing a double take Porthos was surprised as hell to see her. Mildly annoyed as she went to stand beside him, he knew that Athos didn’t need any kind of distractions. “What are ya doin’ ‘ere?”

Fluttering her long, dark lashes Milady slowly smiled. “I was simply in the area and decided to pop in. You know how it goes?”

“Actually I don’t,” Porthos countered, a deep growl followed his response.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed. “Guess you wouldn’t at that.” Turning toward the boy she struck d’Artagnan lightly on the arm with her fan. “You’ve been at it again I’ve heard. How many lives have you gone through now?” The youth paid no heed to her, as he was fixated on the duel. With a light shrug of one shoulder, Milady changed the topic. “What are the stakes?” Seemingly the young Gascon still hadn’t heard her.

“What makes ya think there are any?” Throwing that back at her, Porthos eyes never left the fight.

"Tis the Duke of Savoy," she remarked rather blandly. "I did recognize him. No wonder all the guards are inside."

"If'n Athos wins we get our treaty with Savoy," Porthos grudgingly offered.

"If he loses?" Doubting it but one never knew she thought.

"'E won't lose," Porthos snorted. "There's no one better with a blade in all of France."

"Tis to be hoped Athos was good at something else," Milady dryly remarked. "As a husband he failed remarkably." Another snort from Porthos made her lips curl upward.

++++

Beginning to feel his nerves fray around the edges, King Louis tilted his head toward Cardinal Richelieu. "If Athos damages Christine Marie's husband my sister's going to be very upset." Not surprised in the least that the cardinal had no retort, King Louis' hands gripped the arms of his chair.

Knocking the blade from the Duke's hand gave Athos grim satisfaction. So did the position the older man was in... down on the ground at the foot of His Majesty's dais. Breathing hard from his exertions, blade at the throat of the batard that had helped slaughter twenty innocent Musketeers, Athos ignored Treville's call to him. With a flick of his wrist, drawing first blood, Athos cut a neat slice upon the exposed flesh just below the Duke's neck. Edging away from his opponent Athos felt a hard clap to his back.

"Glad it was ya. I'd 'ave cut 'is bloody 'ead off!" Porthos' rough laughter, as he steered Athos away, was closely followed by an enthusiastic hug to his friend from their son. But it looked like trouble was ahead when Porthos spied the captain coming their way.

"I thought you were going to kill him there for a second or two," d'Artagnan whispered.

"It was a near thing, pup," Athos admitted. Upon noting Anne's appearance, his back stiffened.

"You were magnificent, Athos." Green eyes flashed amusement at him. "At least it proved to me you could excel in other ventures." Her fan unfolded, covering half her face. "While emotional entanglements appear to escape you." That annoyed him Anne could tell, by the glowering look he sent her.

Words to her would have to wait for later because Athos noted Treville's approach. Preparing himself for the tongue lashing he knew was due, his face was expressionless.

"You could have left the Duke his dignity! Mon Dieu!" Slapping his chapeau on his head, Treville gave his lieutenant an order. "You will go apologize at once!"

It galled Athos to do so but he understood the position everyone was in due to the Duke of Savoy's ultimatum. When he was at the entrance to the Duke's chamber, Athos had a clear view of the other man's back while the Duke changed shirts. The scar stood out clear as day, nearly making Athos wish he had followed through on his initial inclination to run the Duke through with his rapier. Clearing his throat, Athos made his presence known. "I have come to apologize. I was overzealous in our duel."

"You fought well." Shrugging into his shirt, Amadeus slowly approached the Musketeer. "I had the impression that you wanted to kill me."

"What reason would any Musketeer have for killing the Duke of Savoy?" Giving him a minute bow Athos turned on his heel. Silently seething with each step that he took, Athos departed the room.

++++

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

While things had heated up at the Louvre, Aramis had been stealthily searching the captain's office. Discovering that all records of the night of the massacre had disappeared frustrated him. But it proved to Aramis that Treville was covering something up. Was the officer alone in it or were there others involved? His mind whirling with the possibilities, Aramis left the room to go seek his brothers.

Running into Athos and Porthos in the courtyard, Aramis was filled in on the events at the palace. Beyond surprised he was pleased that Athos soundly beat the Duke. Irritated with the captain for making his friend apologize, Aramis ended up being glad it had happened now that Athos told him that he had seen the scar on the Duke's back. This proved to Aramis that it was indeed the Duke of Savoy who had led the attack five years ago. Proceeding then to fill them in on the mystery unfolding over those missing records Aramis decided to speak with the captain. The others could follow or not.

++++

_Back to Treville's office_

The inseparable's faced off with Captain Treville with what they knew so far. Aramis told the older officer that it wasn't a Spanish raiding party that murdered his comrades but the Duke of Savoy. When Treville became quite angry and asked them who they had been speaking with, Aramis kept putting the captain on the defensive. Their commanding officer appeared even guiltier when he wouldn't answer any of their questions or give them straight answers.

"What happened five years ago?" Holding himself back from screaming in Treville's face, Aramis stood his ground.

"Oh... I didn't tell you," Treville snarled. "then it must be none of your business!" Slumping back in his chair, he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck. "I should be given an award for keeping my mouth shut when there's so much that needs to be said to you three but especially to Aramis!" Slamming his fist down hard upon his desk Treville bitterly spat, "I'm going to put this down as a fit of temporary insanity! You're lucky I don't court-marshal the lot of you! Now get out of here!"

Leaving in a fit of temper, slamming the door behind him, Aramis caught a look shared between his friends. "You still won't believe me?"

"We need more evidence." Worried about having left d'Artagnan to his own devices, hanging around the Garrison, Athos was in a rush to check on the pup. All this turmoil over who led the raid or who didn't was going to give him an ulcer. That is if he didn't already have one.

"I've certainly rattled Captain Treville's cage." Stabbing each of his friends with a hard look, Aramis wanted to hear their theories upon it.

"Ya 'ave no one ta blame but yourself," Porthos snapped, still not believing the captain guilty of a cover-up. "Unless some other guy is standin' next ta ya then ya can blame 'im." Snorting softly he added, "And it wasn't either of us cause we were standin' near the door."

Amused, despite the circumstances, Athos' lips twitched slightly. Turning sideways, he made sure Aramis hadn't seen his reaction to Porthos' words.

Frowning in displeasure, Aramis was about to lay into Porthos when Athos interrupted him.

Knowing Aramis wasn't pleased with either him or Porthos backing him up, Athos placed a calming hand on Aramis' arm. "I want to make sure d'Art hasn't stirred up any hornet's nest while we've been with Treville." Before splitting up, Athos heard Porthos say that he would meet up with both of them later while Aramis mentioned going back to question Marsac.

++++

_Constance's home_

Fighting off the crazed advances of Marsac, Constance tried looking around for a weapon to use. Fortunately for her, she didn't need to. The arrival of Aramis put paid to Marsac's attack.

Taking one look at what was happening Aramis tore into Marsac, knocking the other man down. "Touch her again and I'll kill you myself!" Brimming over with anger, Aramis curled an arm around Constance anchoring her to his side. His hand ached to reach for his sword. But because of their former friendship Aramis couldn't bring himself to injure Marsac further.

"My apologies, Aramis." Cowering on the floor, he stared up at his old friend. "I used to be a man of honor. Now I hardly recognize myself."

Dragging Marsac up, Aramis marched him into the other room that had originally been given to the man. Throwing Marsac upon the chair he trussed him up once more. Pointing a finger at him Aramis spat, "Everyone is fighting their own battles here, try not to be an asshole again!"

Going back over to Constance, Aramis wanted to make sure she hadn't been hurt. "Are you all right?" Dark eyes carefully roamed over her figure. She nodded her head slightly back at him. "You're sure? Because you and d'Art have that in common. Covering up injuries." Listening to Marsac begging their forgiveness from the next room, a muscle worked in Aramis' jaw. "I've tied him up. He won't trouble you again."

"Just as well you came when you did," Constance murmured. "I might have hurt him." Allowing herself a slim smile, she quickly looked away from Aramis' penetrating stare. "Makes a change having someone else trying to kiss me. Never been so popular."

"I wish there was something I could do to make amends." He had never felt so rotten in his life, except for Savoy.

Upon his words, a pair of twinkling blue eyes zeroed in on him. "There is one thing."

"Of course," his head bobbed.

"Teach me to shoot." There Constance had bravely gotten that out. She'd been dying to ask him for ages but was afraid he'd refuse her outright because she was a woman.

"Shoot?" he dumbly repeated.

"Sword fighting as well," Constance joyfully laughed. "Always liked the look of that. Why should men have all the fun? Why do women have to be dignified and ladylike?"

Grinning at her childlike glee, Aramis tilted his head to the side. "I have no idea."

"So you'll do it?" Oh oh! He's hesitating. She felt that Aramis was going to turn her request down.

"Oui." Bemused at the enthusiastic kiss he received, Aramis wondered what he was letting himself in for. After having agreed upon a time and place for her lessons, he made his excuses for leaving again as he wanted to try shadowing Captain Treville's movements.

++++

_Later outside the Palais-Cardinal_

After a heated exchange with Richelieu, Treville discovered Aramis had been eavesdropping. Making sure the cardinal was nowhere to be seen he confronted his soldier. Aramis, however, got in the first angry words.

"Did you betray your men to the Duke!" Aramis hissed, fists clenching.

Tired of all the subterfuge, Treville gave the Musketeer the answer the marksman craved. "Oui."

Slugging the captain hard in the jaw, knocking the officer down, Aramis stood over him shaking with rage. "This isn't over!" Quickly as he could Aramis made his way back to Constance's. Untying Marsac he told him what Treville had admitted to. They then argued because Aramis wanted to turn the captain over to the proper authorities for court-marshal. Whereas Marsac wanted to kill Treville outright. You would have thought Aramis would have learned by now never to turn your back on a rabid animal. Losing consciousness, from a blow to the back of his head, Marsac's apology was the last thing that registered.

++++

_Royal Palace - Duke of Savoy's Chamber_

A brief interlude with Christine Marie's husband ended abruptly when Gontard appeared. Leaving Victor with his minister she hovered close to the open door. Listening in to their private conversation, Christine Marie overhead them speaking about Cluzet being here in Paris. This startling news provoked her to make a mad dash to the Garrison.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

While waiting for his papas, d'Artagnan helped out at the canteen. When papa Porthos and papa Athos arrived, old Serge brought out drinks for them all. As d'Artagnan listened to them explain what transpired at the captain's office it was then that a cloaked figure on horseback arrived. Throwing her hood off, d'Artagnan was shocked to note that it was the Duchess of Savoy. Explaining her presence to them, he learned whom Cluzet was and that for the sake of France the Duke musn't find him in their prison.

++++

_Royal Palace - Throne room_

Facing Louis, Anne and Cardinal Richelieu, Victor felt confident that he held the winning hand. "We now know Cluzet's imprisoned here." A broad smirk covered his face, as he stared hard upon Richelieu's blank features. "Therefore kiss your treaty goodbye."

"Where's your proof?" barked Richelieu, finally finding his voice.

Smirk never leaving him, Victor replied, "Let's pay him a visit."

Observing Victor and Gontard walking out the door, King Louis glanced at the cardinal. "Does he expect you to follow?"

"I rather think he does." Trailing after the Duke, Richelieu's mind was furiously working upon how to get out of this one.

++++

_The Chatelet_

Coming up with a _by the seat of your pants plan_ , Athos, d'Artagnan, Porthos and the Duchess beat the Duke of Savoy's carriage to the prison. Quickly switching out Serge for Cluzet, d'Artagnan barely had time to grab the cloak and chapeau off of one of the guards the Duchess had knocked senseless. Something which papa Porthos had gotten a real charge out of remarking that she wasn't just your average Duchess.

Hearing the Duke shouting out for his chancellor, as his approach grew closer, d'Artagnan sat down upon an overturned barrel. Bending his head, lowering the brim of his chapeau to conceal his features, he felt sorry for Cardinal Richelieu while His Eminence kept trying to tell the Duke he was making a mistake.

When the Duke of Savoy wanted to check the cell d'Artagnan was guarding, the cardinal's voice sounded shaky. Daring to peek up at him, he cheekily winked. The cardinal at first appeared stunned then quickly recovered his wits by demanding d'Artagnan follow the Duke's orders and open the cell up.

Putting the key into the lock, d'Artagnan stepped aside before the Duke knocked him down in his urgency to enter the cell. When it was Cardinal Richelieu's turn, he gave d'Artagnan a _we will talk later_ stare. Trying very hard to refrain from laughing, d'Artagnan bit his lips.

Upon noting the sole occupant of the cell had been a grizzled, old man and not Cluzet, Victor had harsh words for Gontard.

"Now could we get back to the business of talking the treaty?" Elated, trying not to sound the least sarcastic, Richelieu couldn't wait to leave the Chatelet and get on with it. Before departing, he exchanged a long look with the young Gascon. A brief dip of each of their heads acknowledged one another. Once again regretting that the boy had no desire to become a Red Guard, Richelieu followed closely behind the Duke and his minister.

Waiting until everyone had gone, Porthos slapped d'Artagnan on the back. "Nice look, whelp. Better with the chapeau." His words lightened the atmosphere. Even Athos was smiling. All they had to do now was get back to the Garrison.

++++

At the juncture to the Royal Palace and the Garrison, Christine Marie thanked the Musketeers and the boy for their help. Then quickly she made her way back to the Louvre before being missed.

"Porthos and I have to report back to the palace as well, d'Art." Uncomfortable with what they might be facing back at the Louvre, Athos removed his chapeau to run fingers through his hair. "D'Art do me a favor and make sure Aramis hasn't gone beyond the point of reason."

"I will, papa." Turning Tempest around, d'Artagnan nudged his mount in the sides and headed for the Garrison.

++++

_Garrison armory_

Having not been able to locate papa Aramis around the grounds, d'Artagnan had noted Marsac entering the armory. Confused as to why the former soldier was here and not back at Constance's, he followed him.

++++

Coming up behind Treville, Marsac trained his pistol on the officer. "Treason has to be paid for, Captain."

"I always thought you'd be back one day." So this is where Aramis was getting his information from. Marsac must have been the shooter the day of the Duke's arrival. Slowly turning around, Treville faced his former Musketeer.

Hand steady, Marsac was ready to end his nightmare once and for all. "I'm going to blow you to hell!" Suddenly someone tackled him from behind. Still with a firm grip on his pistol, Marsac fought off the slim body that was on top of him. Hitting out with the butt of his weapon it connected with a loud crack upon his attacker's head.

The limp form of d'Artagnan caused a roar of anger to erupt from Treville and not only him but Aramis who had just rushed past the entrance.

"Put your gun down, Marsac!" Having woken up with a gigantic headache, Aramis had collected himself and tracked down the runaway. Upon noting his son unconscious on the floor, a murderous rage engulfed him. Wanting nothing more but to check on how d'Artagnan was, Aramis knew he had to contain this situation first. "Captain Treville will face a court-marshal!"

"There will be no court-marshal," Treville tiredly announced. "The king knows what happened. I was acting on his instructions."

Confused, his own pistol still trained on Marsac, Aramis didn't understand the implications. "The king told you to betray us?"

"I was told to pass on your position to the Duke and I obeyed him." Sitting down beside d'Artagnan, Treville lifted the lad's head upon his lap. "It was done to protect the king's spy of great import in Savoy... the _Duchess_."

"You sold us out to save the Duchess?" It still didn't matter to Aramis. What was one woman compared to twenty loyal soldiers?"

"Cluzet suspected her." Running his fingers gently over d'Artagnan's scalp, Treville discovered a rather large lump on the back of the youngster's head. "His Majesty had to distract the Duke while they captured Cluzet before he exposed her." Hanging his head down, Treville closed his eyes in pain. "I was misled. Richelieu allowed the Duke to believe your mission was an assassination attempt."

Mad with grief, Marsac didn't care either. He wouldn't be talked down by Aramis or anyone. Bent on killing the officer he felt was responsible for the entire tragedy, Marsac aimed his pistol upon the captain again cocking the trigger. His old friend's voice yelling out his name had been the last thing he heard, when a ball entered Marsac's body... it was almost a relief.

Catching his brother before Marsac fell to the floor, Aramis bitterly regretted that he had to shoot him. "I'm sorry, mon ami."

"Better to die a Musketeer than live like a dog." Breathing his last, Marsac gave up his spirit. Carefully laying the body down, Aramis shifted over to where d'Artagnan laid unnaturally still in Treville's arms.

"Concussion I think," Treville gruffly offered. "Lump the size of a goose egg on the back of the boy's head."

Trading places with the officer, cradling d'Artagnan, Aramis lifted him up. "Would you see to Marsac while I take d'Art over to the infirmary?"

"Don't trouble yourself, Aramis. I'll take care of everything personally." Looking down upon the deceased man, Treville's soul hurt. "After all I feel responsible."

Dark eyes filled with sadness and tears, Aramis made his way out of the office. Carrying his child up the steps to the infirmary, Aramis was numb of all feeling. For the moment, what his friends were going to say about d'Artagnan's latest mishap was the last thing on his mind.

++++

_Notes:_

After a little search I discovered The Duke of Savoy's full name... Victor Amadeus. Strange that Louis' sister's first name was never mentioned in the show. So in searching Victor I discovered her name was Christine Marie. So I changed and used her name in the last chapter when she greeted her brother.

 _Batard_ \- bastard

 _Quote: "I should be given an anward for keeping my mouth shut when there's so much that needs to be said."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Oh... I didn't tell you. Then it must be none of your business."_ from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "You have no one to blame but yourself. Unless some other guy is standing next to you then you can blame him."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "Everyone is fighting their own battles. Try not to be an asshole."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We wind up the Marsac saga in this chapter and now will begin to deal with something I took from season 3, ep. 1 - Spoils of War.  
> Though it's a completely different take on it as France is not at war with Spain as yet. I didn’t re-watch the ep. for dialog this time since mine is so far off from it but did look at a script that was done for it and took some info from there. The script cane from the BBC’s Writer’s Room.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, after sunset – Garrison infirmary_

“Why can’t I go home with you now?” Whining didn’t get d’Artagnan any further than the bed he currently occupied, still he tried anyway. “Doctor Devereaux said I only had a minor concussion.” Scowling up at papa Aramis, he couldn’t miss noting the older man touching the back of his own head. “You got clobbered just like me so why aren’t you in the other bed?”

Arching a brow at his brother, Athos sat back in his chair with arms folded. The pup had a good point.

“Mis ‘ere’s older and got a harder noggin’ than yours whelp.” Frowning at Aramis, Porthos didn’t know that Athos had similar thoughts on the matter now that the runt brought it up.

Head aching, though d’Artagnan wouldn’t have admitted that for the world, he noted how uneasy the others appeared. Both his papas were mad at papa Aramis. Why, d’Artagnan wasn’t quite sure since papa hadn’t been anywhere around the armory when d’Artagnan tried to save Captain Treville. 

“I’m sorry you had to kill your friend, papa.” Plucking at his covers, d’Artagnan felt the bed dip from the weight of the older man.

Dropping a kiss upon the top of his son’s head, Aramis carefully wrapped his arms around the boy. “The Marsac I knew died five long years ago, d’Art.” Closing his eyes against the painful memories, a lone tear slid down Aramis’ face. “It simply took time for his body to catch up.” When a softly cleared throat made itself known, he turned his head slightly catching the solemn expression covering the physician’s features.

“D’Art needs to rest.” These men may be Musketeers but Devereaux ruled the infirmary. “Aramis,” he drawled, “regardless of how hard that head of yours appears to be I suggest bed rest for you too.”

Realizing Devereaux had overheard Porthos talking, Aramis released his son and got off the bed. Previous experience with the physician had made him wary of the older man.

“Depending upon how you are on the morrow, d'Art, I will determine if you should return home.” With a small wave of his hand at all of them Devereaux went to check on another patient.

Standing at the foot of the lad’s bed Aramis watched while Athos and Porthos took turns kissing d’Artagnan upon the forehead. The silent treatment both men had treated him to, since their son had been injured, was more than unnerving. Aramis realized they were blaming him for the pup being hurt and perhaps they were correct in thinking that.

++++

_Garrison stable_

He couldn’t stand it any longer. “ _SAY SOMETHING, NOM DE DIEU!_ ” Aramis shouted, startling their horses.

“I am at a loss upon describing how I feel after all of this. But I cannot find fault with you, if I am to be honest with myself.” Oui, Athos was furious over the entire Savoy affair, wrapping up with his child landing in the infirmary. He really could not begin pointing fingers at Aramis, having his own guilt to deal with since he was the one that had asked d’Artagnan to check on his brother in the first place. What had he been thinking? Evidently his brain had temporarily shut down, leaving Athos to work on automatic saying the first thing that had popped out of his mouth to the boy.

“Between the runt and Mis, Captain Treville’s alive. That stands for somethin’ with me.” Mounting Roulette, Porthos waited for his friends to gain their own mounts. “I’m with Athos on this one,” he grunted. “Not sure what I’m feelin’ findin’ out that the captin’ followed the king’s orders blindly.”

“Not realizing he was sending them to their doom,” Athos tacked on. Letting Roger take the lead Athos and the others left the stable, all of them with mixed emotions. “I will brave the lion’s den and go back to check on d’Art after I have refreshed myself.”

“Then I’ll do the same,” Porthos chimed in.

“Non.” Shaking his head Athos’ gaze rested on Aramis. The latter having gone uncharacteristically silent on them, since the man’s outburst in the stable. “One of us returning is bad enough.”

“Doc does tend ta get annoyed when we’re all together.” Glancing over at Athos, he could see his eldest friend’s blue eyes twinkling. “Guess’n we take up a lot of room.”

“Aramis, I am truly sorry about Marsac.” Staring at the still silent marksman’s stiff form, Athos knew he had not been all that supportive of the younger man.

“Neither you nor Porthos believed him.” Tightening his fingers on Belle’s reins, until they turned nearly white, Aramis kept his eyes straight ahead.

“I’m sorry, Mis. I couldn’t see Captin’ Treville in the role of a murderer,” Porthos murmured quietly, voice laced with regret. “Thought Marsac was just a nutter full of crap.”

Knowing Marsac hadn’t left a favorable impression with his brothers, it should have pleased Aramis upon their apologies. But was it too little too late? Thinking upon how Marsac had attacked Constance, Aramis hadn’t felt very charitable toward his old comrade either. “Captain Treville made arrangements for Marsac’s burial on the morrow. I shall see d’Art afterward.” That was all he could offer his friends for the time being. Perhaps when this was behind him…

++++

_Next day – mid morn_

While the Duke’s party left the Louvre for their return back to Savoy, elsewhere over at the graveyard where the king’s Musketeers were buried, Aramis and Captain Treville made peace with each other over Marsac’s grave.

Upon the captain’s departure, Aramis unsheathed his rapier and stuck it in the mound of dirt that his old friend was buried under. “Rest now, Marsac… with your brothers.”

++++

_Near noon_

In a secluded area, hidden away from prying eyes, Aramis began Constance’s lessons. Standing close behind her, tightening his hands on her trim waist while placing her in the correct position to hit the target, Aramis couldn’t resist placing a kiss upon her lovely neck.

“None of that now,” she sassed. “I have to concentrate.”

“Mmmmm, on me?” he roguishly suggested. Pressing another kiss, this time upon her cheek, Aramis was unrepentant. When Constance clucked her tongue, he pouted. “Later then,” he whispered, pleased upon the nod of her titian head.

His minty breath had been pleasant upon her heated skin. His flirtations were nearly her undoing, when Constance aimed and fired her pistol. Prepared for the kickback, she hadn’t lost her balance. When the glass bottle had shattered into shards, Constance had been as gleeful as a petite fille.

Pressing herself close against Aramis, delighted with her newly acquired skills, Constance forgot her earlier words to him about waiting for a more appropriate time. Throwing her arms around Aramis’ neck, Constance bestowed upon him all the pent up passion in her body. Pulling slightly away, quite satisfied with herself, she whispered in his ear. “ _Swords?_ ” Listening to Aramis’ sigh of resignation, while rolling his dark eyes, Constance knew she had him exactly where she wanted.

++++

A week or so down the road brought d’Artagnan a surprise of a different nature. Cardinal Richelieu was going to visit an old friend, who was now an abbott presiding over a group of friars, at a monastery in Douai and he wanted to take d’Artagnan along.

The inseparables hadn’t seen anything wrong with the trip. There would be ample guards, both of the red and blue variety. It would be a treat for their son. A reward of sorts. After all the boy had saved the Dauphin’s life and helped to prove Porthos innocent of murdering a Parisian citizen.

Then there was the fact that d’Artagnan’s only ventures outside of Paris, up until now, had been only the occasional picnic or some such but still it had been within the city limits. His kidnapping by slavers hadn’t counted as a fun jaunt. Douai was barely a five day journey so the inseparable’s felt comfortable that if something were to happen it wouldn’t take them long to get there, even if they pushed their horses somewhat.

It was a grand gesture to have Cardinal Richelieu asking the youth to accompany him. So with their blessing they saw the pup off at the Palais-Cardinal. Once d’Artagnan had entered the carriage, Porthos handed over Alex to him. It had surprised the inseparables, as well as their son, that His Eminence insisted the petite minx be brought along. It turned out that the cardinal was also bringing one of his cats along as well. All in all it was thought that Alex would be a good companion for the other feline. They would miss their son being underfoot but it would be an experience d’Artagnan wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Waving goodbye to him, the inseparables didn’t move a muscle until the carriage disappeared from view.

++++

_Mid-day - En route to Douai_

Running his long fingers through Minette’s white fur, Richelieu became annoyed when she accidentally scratched his wrist. Removing her from his lap he set Minette beside him. “I have it on good authority that the Dauphin’s missing your friendship greatly.”

“Perhaps when we return I shall relent and spend time with young Louis again.” Alex was draped over d’Aragnan’s shoulder, refusing to sit upon his lap. Gently scratching underneath her chin, despite the rocking motion of the carriage, she purred in content. “I never did ask what type of punishment was doled out to him this time.”

Twirling his mustache, Richelieu hummed in thought. “I was led to believe that the Dauphin needed cushions to sit upon for a time after he had been with King Louis.” A simple nod of the head was the only indication Richelieu had that the youngster had heard him. “Queen Anne told me that His Majesty almost sprained his own hand in the process.” Now that remark caught d’Artagnan’s attention as the lad began chuckling.

“Tell me about your friend Abbott Porcher that we’re going to visit."

A sparkle entered Richelieu’s eyes. “I shouldn’t admit this,” Minette chose that moment to jump back into his lap and he automatically began stroking her soft coat once more, “but Vincent and I used to get into nearly as much trouble as you and the Dauphin.”

“Oh this sounds good,” d’Artagnan threw back with a light laugh.

“Mmmmm,” Richelieu nodded his head. “Perhaps I shall regale you with our daring deeds later. As to how we met…” mewling when he stopped petting her, Richelieu pulled a face. “Excusez-moi while I scold her, d’Art.” Gazing down upon the innocent looking white face peering up at him, he waggled a finger at Minette. “You are very spoiled. Quit interrupting.” Gazing into the young Gascon’s amused eyes, Richelieu smiled. “Now where was I?”

“About to tell me all the mischief you and your friend got up too.”

“For another time, d’Art.” Getting off that particular hairy subject, Richelieu offered the boy a brief back history. “We had gone to the same college where I had been sent at the age of nine to study philosophy.”

“ _Nine?_ ” squeaked d’Artagnan.

“I was something of a prodigy even at that young age,” dryly retorted Richelieu. “It was there at Navarre where I met Vincent. He too was academically at the same level as myself.” Remembering some of their antics, Richelieu debated whether or not to tell the youngster. “Discovering that we had a lot in common drew us close together, especially with us both being homesick. We became fast friends from that point onward.”

Leaning forward in rapt attention, with Alex still perched upon the boy's shoulder, d’Artagnan had to keep one hand on his pet to keep her from falling off. It caused Richelieu to cover up a laugh that erupted turning it into a cough instead. “Alas, upon graduation we each had our own aspirations to arise to and went our separate ways.”

“But you both kept up a correspondence with each other, oui?”

“Oui, we have.” Minette was becoming fussy now. She must be hungry, Richelieu thought. “Tis funny how life took us in different directions. Vincent with his position now and myself…”

“First Minister of France,” d’Artagnan grinned, while Alex did her best to stay attached to his shoulder. “I'm looking forward to see how the other half live during our travels.”

Amused by the words, Richelieu wasn’t quite sure what the lad had been getting at. “Meaning?”

“Spending our nights at inns along the way and not having to camp outdoors.” Getting tired of Alex digging her claws into his shoulder, d’Artagnan removed her to sit upon his lap. “I constantly hear my papas grumbling about having been on missions where they’ve gotten soaked to the skin or froze their tails off while camping outside.”

“Ah!” Inclining his head in understanding, Richelieu kept up a running conversation with d’Artagnan upon the merits of what a soldier had to endure in the field. It would give the child something to think upon. This kept them both occupied until their first rest stop.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

“ _PORTHOS!_ ” Treville bellowed at the giant lounging near one of the benches. “Why are the weapons in the armory in disarray?” Leaning over the balcony, he continued to shout. “Nothing is where tis supposed to be! Take care of it now!”

Joining Porthos, sitting on either side of him now, were a grinning pair of idiots otherwise known as his brothers.

“In the dog house with Treville again, mon ami?” questioned Athos, not in the least put off by Porthos’ dark scowl.

Scratching at his beard, Porthos glared upward toward the balcony where the captain had been venting his anger. “’Ow is it that nobody notices all the stuff I do until I stop doin’ it?” A pat on the back from Aramis didn’t make him feel much better.

“Just lucky I guess, mon frere.” With a wink and a chuckle Aramis observed Porthos stomp his way over to the armory. “You know, Athos, some people just lack the ability to laugh at themselves.” Standing up Aramis adjusted his doublet. Tapping Athos on the shoulder, he winked again. “But that’s where I come in.”

“Does your remark mean you are going to attempt to sooth the savage beast?” Raising a brow, Athos’ dour expression cast his doubts upon Aramis doing so.

“Oh ye of little faith.” Tipping his chapeau at a jaunty angle, Aramis headed for the armory.

++++

_Armory_

Porthos was going to wring Antoine’s scrawny neck! The man was supposed to have taken care of this for him today. Having enough duties, Porthos had been running behind in his schedule and had asked his comrade if he would help him out. Grumbling to himself, Porthos hadn’t heard someone enter the building. Not until he caught a whiff of the aromatic scent Aramis loved to use, a mixture of herbs and spices. Used to be his friend only wore it to entice the ladies into the marksman’s bed. Of late that was a thing of the past since he's gotten serious about their friend Constance.

Without turning around Porthos growled, "I only like people on two occasions... when they're funny... when they leave me the 'ell alone! So why don't ya do the latter, Mis."

"Since I only qualify for the first occasion, Porthos," casually leaning against the wall Aramis watched his friend twist his neck around to glare at him, "I'll skip the second."

"Should 'ave known you'd be the one ta come an pester me." Continuing on with the business at hand, Porthos ignored his brother.

"Don't be that way, mon ami." Perching himself on top of a table Aramis picked up one of the muskets lying there. Pretending to study the weapon's craftsmanship, he spoke up without looking at Porthos. "I'm mostly 'peace, love and light'." A sly grin crossed his face, at the sound of his friend's deep grunt. "With a little dash of 'screw you' thrown in."

He couldn't help himself any longer. Aramis' witty self-description had brought about the response Porthos gathered his friend had wanted. Shoulders shaking with laughter, his sour mood vanished. Then, out of the blue, he murmured quietly, "I miss the whelp."

"Where did that come from?" Removing his chapeau Aramis placed it upon the table, alongside the musket he had been pretending to admire.

"Don't know." Shrugging, Porthos finished one part of his job and started upon another. Suddenly, he found Aramis by his shoulder pitching in to help.

"D'Art hasn't even been gone long enough to be missed," Aramis huffed. Endeavoring to hang the rapiers upon one of the racks mounted on the wall, he found himself jumping back in surprise. The entire rack, swords and all, fell with a mighty crash upon the floor.

" _Merde!_ " Going over to inspect the damage, hands on hips, Porthos glared at his brother's sheepish expression. "This is what you consider help? You've made a 'ell of a mess for me!"

"How'd I know the nails the rack was on were weak?" Stepping aside while Porthos picked up the slightly cracked rack, moving it to a corner of the room, Aramis wanted to get back to their original conversation. "If it makes you feel any better I miss the pup as well."

"Hmmmph!" Knowing it was an accident, Porthos couldn't really place the blame for the mess on Aramis. He just needed to take his anger out on someone. Taking a deep breath, Porthos tried to calm down. "Pup's never gone away like this without us." Now he hoped that satisfied Aramis. This was something he didn't want to touch for now so he abruptly changed the subject. "You've been gettin' along better with Constance lately. Ya serious this time? Because ya better be. I don't wanna see 'er 'urt."

Porthos unsubtle change of topic should have amused Aramis but he didn't feel like laughing. "Tis about time for her and I don't you think?" Listening to the evil chuckle escaping his large friend, Aramis worried over it.

"People in love use phrases like 'takes my breath away' and 'swept off my feet'." Snickering, it was Porthos' turn to wink at the marksman. "Personally I think they're confusin' love with attempted murder."

" _Porthos!_ " Shocked, Aramis could only stare at the other man as if his brother had grown two heads. "That just goes to show you that you have no concept of the feeling." Picking up his chapeau Aramis slapped Porthos with it. Dark eyes flashing dangerously, he snapped, "If you value your life don't ever let Constance hear you say?"

Evidently Aramis couldn't see the teasing light in Porthos' eyes. Feeling good that he could rile his friend up, he grinned. "Why what's she gonna do ta me? I'm bigger than 'er."

Not wanting to give away her new skillset, Aramis did go so far as to say, "Constance is always full of surprises, mon frere. I suggest you never find yourself on the wrong side of her." Whistling, Aramis took a look at the wall that rack had been on. Perhaps he could fix it. Then Porthos wouldn't be such a grouchy bear.

Not sure how to take the warning, Porthos shrugged it off. "You do know I was jus havin' some fun with ya?"

"Uh huh."

"That didn't sound very convincin'," Porthos griped. Wanting to finish this job as fast as he could, Porthos promised himself not to get distracted over hurting Aramis' overly sensitive feelings. Otherwise Captain Treville would find another reason to throw more work Porthos' way.

++++

_Monastery in Douai_

With over four days of traveling under them, both Richelieu and his young companion were happy to have arrived safely. The location of the monastery was in a region of extensive forests, with rolling hills and ridges. While passing through the dense area, Richelieu admitted to a feeling of unease. Concerned that at any moment they could be waylaid by malandrins. Traveling over the rough terrain, through the Scarpe Valley, he admitted to having a sore posterior from all the jostling around every time they hit a bump. As for d'Artagnan, the boy had proven to be an excellent companion and hadn't complained once. Except at the last inn they had stayed at. The young Gascon hadn't enjoyed the repast they had eaten. The lad told him that his papa Aramis could have cooked the steak much better than they had and the salad was wilted. Even Richelieu had to agree.

When their carriage rolled past the gates of the monastery to pull up in front of the entrance, Richelieu was eager to meet his old friend again. He had filled d'Artagnan in that, aside from the abbott, the monastery was home to at least twenty friars and about six homeless orphans. A few of the orphans were close enough in age that Richelieu hoped d'Artagnan would find something in common with them. He thought it would make the visit more enjoyable for the lad.

Climbing out of the carriage, Richelieu looked upon the grounds. The monastaery was huge and in good repair by the looks of it. While admiring its structure, he missed the person rushing out past the open doors.

" _Armand!_ " cried out Vincent, pure joy in his voice.

" _Vincent, mon ami!_ " Wrapping his arms around the other man, in a warm embrace, Armand held on tightly.

Both men took stock of each other, apparently making notes of the changes the years had wrought.

Before getting lost in catching up, Armand turned to d'Artagnan and signaled him to come forth. "Vincent, I want you to meet my young friend d'Art. The boy's père's are all Musketeers."

"Did you say _père's_?" A bit confused, Vincent thought he had misheard.

Laughing, Aramand said, "Oui. Three of them all of which I'll explain later. Tis rather an involved tale."

"Tis an honor to meet you, Abbott." Bowing, d'Artagnan smiled at the older man.

"I can't wait to hear your story, young man," Vincent chuckled. "Three père's. I'm so glad I only had one." Listening to the lad's laughter, Vincent grinned. He was good with children. Good thing too, as he and his brothers housed the orphans that came to them.

"Why do I have the feeling I've forgotten something?" Casting d'Artagnan a puzzled frown, it was then that Richelieu heard a hissing sound followed by one of his Red Guards violently swearing. Noting Alex was on top of d'Artagnan's shoulder it had to be... " _Minette!_ "

++++

_Notes:_

The part about Richelieu having gone to the College of Navarre at the age of nine to study philosophy is true. (from Wikipedia)

In the show the abbott didn't seem to have a name. LOL! So now I gave him one.

According to the script from the BBC's Writer's Room, the monastery was located in the Scarpe Valley. Having gotten its name from the Scarpe River in the Hauts-de-France region of France. One of the towns it flows through is Douai.

 _Quote: “How is it that nobody notices all the stuff I do until I stop doing it?”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “Some people just lack the ability to laugh at themselves. That’s where I come in.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I only like people on two occasions... when they're funny... when they leave me the hell alone!"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I'm mostly 'peace, love and light' with a little dash of 'screw you' thrown in."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "People in love use phrases like 'takes my breath away' and 'swept off my feet'. I think they're confusing love with attempted murder."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Nom de Dieu_ – God damn it

 _Excusez-moi_ \- Excuse me  
_Petite fille_ – little girl

 _Malandrins_ \- brigands


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Douai - late morn, shortly after Cardinal Richelieu’s arrival at the monastery_

Relieving Minette from the arms of the Red Guard she had scratched, Richelieu began stroking her back. The white fur was actually standing on end. Perhaps the journey was more harrowing for Minette than he would have thought. “Why couldn’t you be more like Alex eh?” She apparently took exception to the comparison, hissing with displeasure. So preoccupied with his pet, he had missed whatever Vincent was telling him. Something about going inside. Perhaps a different venue would be more appealing to his troublesome puff ball.

Once the cat settled down, though d'Artagnan wasn’t quite sure about that when it began hissing once more, Abbott Porcher quickly ushered his guests inside the building. Upon stepping inside, Cardinal Richelieu was laid siege to. Oh not by common voleurs but by all the eager friars that had awaited his arrival. Amused by the spectacle d’Artagnan excused himself to go get his belongings from the carriage, since it appeared the cardinal was otherwise occupied for the moment.

With Alex still perched upon his shoulder, d’Artagnan went over to where the Musketeers and Red Guards that had accompanied them were. A few were already leading their horses over to one of the buildings that appeared to be a barn, while the others told him not to worry that they’d unload the carriage. Clearly his help wasn’t needed. Turning around, about to go back inside, he then spotted a group of youngsters watching him. “Bonjour,” he dipped his head. The children remained silent except for one boy, who looked to be about sixteen years of age, who stepped forward.

“I’m Luc.” Giving the newcomer the once over, he seemed to be pleased with what he saw. Motioning to two smaller girls, Luc made the introductions. “Here we have Gabrielle and Anaelle,” he grinned. “But we call them Gabby and Ana.” Pushing forward another one, Luc ruffled the child’s reddish colored hair. “Our petit garcon is Carlisle.”

“Bet he prefers to be called Carl,” d’Artagnan guessed. When the petit bobbed his head up and down, d’Artagnan realized he had been correct.

Stepping forward was an older girl. “I’m Danique but you can call me Dani.”

Kneeling down, d’Artagnan winked at the youngest of the children. “Whom may you be Mademoiselle?” The petite fille smiled up at him holding out her hand. So he took it, gently pulling her forward to hear the name she whispered in his ear.

“Marie.” Shyly ducking her head, she turned to run back over to Luc. "I'm six."

“Tis a very pretty name, mon petite.” Standing back up, d’Artagnan observed Marie going to hide behind Luc’s legs.

“Once she feels comfortable around you Marie will pester you unto death,” Luc offered with a wide grin.

“Now that I know all your names,” pointing to himself, d’Artagnan bowed, “mine is d’Art.”

“Tis rather an odd first name is it not or your nickname perhaps?” Curious, Luc noted that his words caused their guest some amusement.

“D’Artagnan. That's what tis short for.”

“I like it.” Peeking out from behind her hiding place, which was still behind Luc’s legs, Marie whispered her approval.

“So do I, petite.” Reaching out a hand d’Artagnan patiently waited for Marie to take it. When she had done so, d’Artagnan felt it had been a milestone for her. Gazing at the expression of surprise upon Luc’s face, d’Artagnan was glad that he and Marie had made an instant connection.

“Now she’ll cling to you like a limpet the entire time you’re here,” Luc remarked dryly.

Tapping Marie’s dainty nose d’Artagnan remarked, “As far as _limpets_ go, she’s a very cute one.” It was then that Alex began mewling, digging her claws into his shoulder. Scowling, d’Artagnan removed her to hold in his arms. “Jealous, Alex?”

“May we pet her?” Carl timidly asked, while drawing closer to them.

“She’s unusually good with children so I don’t foresee an issue.” Kneeling down again, so the petit garcon could reach his pet, d’Artagnan was glad that Alex was behaving herself. Secretly thinking that his marmalade troublemaker loved the attention, he patiently waited until all of his new friends took their turn.

While Alex basked in her popularity, d’Artagnan belatedly remembered why he had come outside in the first place. Even though the guards had told him they'd take care of his belongings, d'Artagnan hadn't felt right about it. Glancing over his shoulder to where the carriage was he noted the Musketeer Leon casually leaning against it, holding a satchel full of d’Artagnan’s things. Assuming Leon was waiting for him to go inside, he decided not to tarry any longer nodding to the soldier. Removing Alex from Marie’s arms, d’Artagnan said, “Perhaps after I unpack you guys could show me around.”

Leading the way back inside the monastery, Luc seemed to know where to take d’Artagnan. “The abbott told me which room you’re to be given so just follow me.”

“Then when you've finished unpacking you could come with us.” With a sweet smile Dani waited to follow Luc, with the smaller children trailing after them.

They probably made an odd procession but d’Artagnan didn’t mind at all.

++++

_Elsewhere_

With the stunning vista of the Ardennes mountains coloring the area, a group of malandrins rode down a small path winding around the mountain. Their wagon was heavily loaded with stolen merchandise which they were hoping to profit from once they crossed over the Spanish border. A goodly portion of their haul were weapons. Those always brought them a tidy sum.

They had been traveling for days now with barely a break. Tired and irritable with each other, they were eager to find a place they could lay low for a short time. One of the men, Tasse, had ridden out several days prior to scout the surrounding area. He came back with news the others would be pleased to hear. “I’ve found us a temporary hide out and I doubt its occupants would give us any problems.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” questioned Dauery.

“The place would be filled with holy men it being a monastery and all.” Staring back at the others Tasse could tell by the varied expressions crossing the men’s faces that some registered surprise, followed by a few amused snorts.

“We could make sure our stash is securely covered by the tarpaulin and pretend we’re simply passing through in need of rest for a few days.” Offering the idea Dauery gazed at his fellow companions, pretty sure that this was one deception they could pull off.

When a show of hands indicated a unanimous decision had been agreed upon, the group began making preparations.

++++

_Back to the monastery_

"Do you still breed pigeons, Vincent?" His friend had refilled his glass for the second time. With the flavor of the Anjou settling on his tongue, Armand glanced about Vincent's office.

"I have to if you and I are to keep up with our regular correspondence." Pouring himself another glass of wine as well, Vincent listened to Armand's soft laughter.

"True." Eyes crinkling up in the corners, Armand nodded his head in full agreement. "I cannot wait to see the rest of your abbey. From what I've seen thus far tis quite impressive." With Minette curled up by his feet, fast asleep after having been fed, Armand hoped her contentment would last during his stay. "Oh and before I retire tonight I mean to visit your chapel and give thanks for our safe arrival."

"As you should, Armand." Going over to his desk, Vincent drummed his fingers on top of it, humming quietly. "Remember when I last visited? You couldn't wait to show me the vast collection of literature in your library." With a smug expression, hazel eyes twinkling, Vincent lightly teased, "Wait until you see ours."

Chuckling, Armand wagged a finger at his friend. "Pride goeth before destruction and an haughty spirit before a fall."

"That is true. But once you've seen for yourself I believe you'll be fighting off the sin of envy." When Armand finished his drink, hooking his arm into the other man's, Vincent went to take him to their own library.

Walking past a window, Armand contemplated the sunny day. "At least the weather's cooperating and I won't be in need to use your warming house anytime soon."

With a mock shudder, Vincent grimaced. "Some past winters here have been brutally cold."

"To which is why I have never visited at that time of season," Armand dryly pointed out. "You are my dearest friend but even for you I wouldn't brave coming out here to trudge through the snow or freeze to death."

"Mmmmmm." Cocking a brow high, Vincent's lips twitched. "All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism."

Holding up his hand, Armand grinned. "Pax, mon ami." Taking the steps up leading to the library, Armand began to fret about leaving d'Artagnan to his own devices. Voicing his thoughts out loud, Vincent eased his mind.

"Luc and the other children will keep the boy well entertained. Do not concern yourself, Armand."

"I hope d'Art's presence won't unduly upset the tranquility you now enjoy." Vincent's laughter was the last thing Armand expected.

"Mon ami, ever since those children arrived on our doorstep _tranquility_ has become a thing of the past." Still laughing over his friend's remark, Vincent continued on. "Their hearts are pure and that's the thing that counts the most."

"Those whose hearts are pure are temples of the Holy Spirit," murmured Armand.

"Quote so," Vincent readily agreed.

"I certainly shall enjoy my stay." When Vincent gave him a questioning glance, Armand sighed. "You do not know the trials and tribulations that go along with running the country and trying to reign in a young king." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Armand shook his head. "Peace is something I so seldom see or feel and I look forward to soaking it up here within these holy walls."

Opening the door to the library, Vincent grew concerned at his friend's words. "Peace is not made at the council tables, or by treaties, but in the hearts of men."

"From your mouth to God's ears." Once Armand stepped past the doors, he was lost in amazement upon the magnificent library his eyes rested upon.

++++

_Outside the monastery_

The children couldn't wait to take d'Artagnan back outside again. He gathered that being shown the inside was of lesser import and would come later. They had taken him first to the barn introducing d'Artagnan to all the animals within its shelter. One of which had been a cat that must have recently given birth to a litter of kittens. Observing the five tiny bodies suckling their maman, d'Artagnan heard Alex begin mewling. "Non, you cannot join them. They've recently been born and need all the nourishment they could get."

He could tell it would be days yet until their eyes began opening up. "Anyway I fed you before we came out here." Petite Marie held out her arms to him in hopes of holding Alex. D'Artagnan had a feeling he would be dealing with one spoiled cat by the time he returned to Paris. Giving in to her sweet face, he handed Alex over. Low and behold suddenly his pet's mewling stopped. Perhaps a different pair of arms was all that d'Artagnan's ball of marmalade fur needed.

Tour of the barn done he was then led on to the forge where some of the friars, skilled as blacksmiths, worked. Lastly, d'Artagnan was taken to where the brewery was housed. Luc then surprised him by admitting to d'Artagnan that he had snuck in one day, when none of the friars were around, to sample the lager. Pulling a comical face, the older boy had made d'Artagnan laugh. Apparently the lager hadn't been to Luc's taste.

Having briefly told the youngsters of his own history, they then insisted on wanting to play at being Musketeers. D'Artagnan's papas would have been highly amused if they could see him now, amongst the trees and scrub of the mountainside, pretending that the long branch in his hand was a rapier. The others had picked up their own branches laying haphazardly underneath the tree-lined area.

D'Artagnan knew what it was like to wield a real blade so it felt somewhat awkward handling a tree branch instead. Of course he had left his own sword back in his room, never thinking he would have need of it. Then again he wouldn't have used it in their mock fight anyway, for fear of harming someone.

As the other children attacked each other with their sticks, d'Artagnan was about to give Luc a lesson in real swordplay. Even though the other lad was four years older than him, Luc’s height wouldn’t put d’Artagnan at a disadvantage as far as he was concerned. Once he had turned twelve, d’Artagnan’s growth spurt had kicked in. Appearing to be as his papas once quipped all gangly limbs, he was nearly equal in height to Luc.

Luc had admitted a private dream of his, once he had discovered d'Artagnan's pères were all Musketeers. He held high hopes of one day traveling to Paris to become one of the king's elite soldiers. So d'Artagnan hadn't felt guilty in going hard on the lad during their practice session. It would prepare Luc for the real thing, whenever the time came.

Studying his opponent, d’Artagnan paid attention to the older boy's tunic. It was roughly made but padded with a fleur-de-lis embroidered on it. No doubt by Luc himself, as d'Artagnan noted it had been crudely done. Constance would have cringed at the poor workmanship. Then again none of the holy men here would have bothered furthering the older lad's daydreams. Also there would have been no time to do so as the friars had many tasks of their own to do to keep the abbey running smoothly.

So with his own crude weapon d'Artagnan began Luc's instructions. This went on for well over a half an hour, before the girls told them they wanted to play hide and seek instead. Carl had protested quite loudly, having enjoyed watching d'Artagnan and Luc's mock battle. Still the girls outnumbered them and they were overruled. "Do not frown so, Carl," d'Artagnan chucked the petit garcon under the chin. "There will be ample time for you to observe us again and then I shall teach you. What think you upon that?" Not expecting to be tackled to the ground from Carl's joy, d'Artagnan laid in the grass stunned while Luc and the other children laughed their heads off.

Play continued on for about another half an hour when it was decided they should head back to the monastery. “I guess we’ve been gone long enough.” Exchanging looks with Gabby and Ana their unhappy nods of agreement reflected how Dani felt.

“She’s right. We better get moving or else receive a tongue lashing from Brother Philippe.” Wincing at that unsavory thought, Luc marched ahead of everyone.

Brother Philippe must be a hard task master, d’Artagnan wondered, judging by that look on Luc’s face. Then again he had never lived in a monastery with a bunch of friars. D’Artagnan supposed it would be intimidating at times.

Along the short journey back d’Artagnan, Luc and Carl had to make occasional stops for the girls to pick wild flowers. It had been amusing to d’Artagnan watching Marie's attempts while having a stranglehold upon Alex. At one point the petite fille began tottering to the left. Fearing she’d take a tumble, ever the gentleman, d’Artagnan picked the flowers for her.

“Already she has you wrapped around her finger.” Rolling his eyes, Luc smiled fondly at d’Artagnan.

“If I could take her back to Paris with us I know of several laundresses that would be pleased to raise her.” Realizing that he had been very lucky in his own life, to have been adopted by three very brave men, d’Artagnan wished the same for all his new friends.

“Dani and I are the oldest,” Luc said. “So far no one’s shown any interest in taking us in. I’ll be seventeen soon and so will Dani. A bit long in the tooth for adoption or so we've been told.”

“Hasn’t anyone wanted the younger ones at least?” Life was hard no matter where one went. D’Artagnan shouldn’t have been shocked that extra mouths to feed would have been frowned upon by people struggling with their own troubles.

“There had been one or two familles passing through on their way to Paris. I thought for sure that Gabby or Carl would be leaving with them,” Luc shrugged. “It didn’t happen.”

Not knowing what to say to that, d’Artagnan remained silent until he found himself in front of the monasteries doors.

“Best now we all get cleaned up before we eat.” Gazing at d’Artagnan, Luc added for the newcomer’s benefit, “Usually our main meal is served around noon but because of Cardinal Richelieu’s arrival it must have been held back since I haven’t heard the bells.” Holding the door open, Luc waited for everyone to file past him. Amused he watched Marie continue to clutch Alex to her chest. “You’re going to have a fight on your hands for Alex when you depart,” Luc chuckled. “I hope you realized that, d’Artagnan.”

“There’s an entire litter of kittens in your barn to entice the petite. Alex is getting on in years and is more than set in her ways. We’re used to each other so I doubt she’d attach herself to a stranger at this stage.” If d’Artagnan had guessed correctly those kittens should begin roaming about on their own in a couple of weeks. Then perhaps Marie would pick a new playmate from one of them. Taking the staircase leading to his room, sniffing the air, something delicious tickled d’Artagnan’s nose. “When I’m ready, Luc, you’ll have to show me where I'm to go.”

“We’ll be eating in the dining hall,” Dani replied instead. “Tis simple fare.” She too caught the aroma of something different than they usually had. “Or perhaps _not_ during the length of the cardinal’s visit.” Clasping her hands together, she grinned. “Something to look forward too then.”

Evidently Carl hadn’t caught the smells wafting from the kitchen for he complained loudly once more. “As long as tis not boiled oats again!” His words were cause for much amusement amongst the other children.

“And, d’Artagnan,” Dani tugged on his arm, “you can't talk during the meal because one of the brothers will be reading scripture from the pulpit.”

Not sure he completely understood, d’Artagnan stared at the group strangely. “I can’t speak _at all_? Then how do the other friars communicate with one another?”

“Hand gestures,” offered Gabby.

“Also with Cardinal Richelieu being an honored guest he’ll be seated at the high table with the abbott,” Luc tacked on. “Probably yourself as well.”

“I’d rather sit with the rest of you.” D’Artagnan’s words appeared to have been the right thing to have said, as he received bright smiles in turn. "Even if I can't say a word."

"I shall find out when we'll be eating and come back for you then." Heading for his own room that he shared with Carl, Luc kept a hand upon the petit garcon's shoulder just in case Carl entertained other ideas of running off.

It would be an interesting meal, d'Artagnan thought. If anything, he'd find amusement in trying to figure out what everyone was trying to say without a word being spoken. Papa Porthos would have failed dismally. Out of the three men who raised him, papa Porthos was always the loudest during mealtime. D'Artagnan was already just that wee bit homesick thinking of his famille back in Paris. He would try to remember everything he could during his time here to tell them upon his return home.

++++

_Notes:_

_Voleurs_ – thieves  
_Petite fille_ – little girl  
_Maladrins_ \- brigands  
_Petit garcon_ \- little boy  
_Famille_ \- family

 _Proverbs 16:18: "Pride goeth before destruction and an haughty spirit before a fall."_ (King James Version)

 _Warming house_ \- Is a common part of a monastery where one went to warm themselves. It was often the only room where a fire was lit.)

 _Quote: "All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Those whose hearts are pure are temples of the Holy Spirit."_ \- from Saint Lucy. Lucia of Syracuse (283–304), also known as Saint Lucy or Saint Lucia (Latin: Sancta Lucia). Was a Christian martyr who died during the Diocletianic Persecution. She is venerated as a saint by the Roman Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, and Orthodox Churches.

 _Quote: "Peace is not made at the council tables, or by treaties, but in the hearts of men."_ \- from Herbert Hoover. Herbert Clark Hoover (August 10, 1874 – October 20, 1964) was an American engineer, businessman and politician who served as the 31st President of the United States from 1929 to 1933 during the Great Depression.

 _Pulpit_ \- is a raised stand for clergy members in a Christian church.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Dining Hall_

Everyone seated themselves at several of the refectory tables in the dining area. Sure enough d’Artagnan noted Cardinal Richelieu seated with Abbott Porcher. When the cardinal crooked a finger toward him, indicating that he wanted d’Artagnan to join them, he shook his head and pointed to the children. When the cardinal nodded and smiled back in understanding, d’Artagnan nudged Luc in the side and grinned.

Observing Carl, nearly bouncing around in his chair, d’Artagnan stifled his amusement. Apparently the aromas from the kitchen were becoming a bit much for the petit garcon. D’Artagnan had to admit that he too was becoming hungry at the delicious smells. When several friars came out carrying huge platters of carved roast beef, d’Artagnan thought Carl was about to faint in excitement. All the children’s eyes were wide, their mouths forming perfect ‘O’s of astonishment without uttering a sound. He could tell that the petit indeed thought this fare was better than boiled oats.

From his vantage point d’Artagnan kept a watchful eye on his pet, wanting to make sure Alex didn’t cause anyone an upset. He needn’t have worried for she and Minette were happily engaged eating some poached fish they had been fed. D’Artagnan remembered hearing Carl also grumbling over that fare as well. The petit garcon had wrinkled up his nose at the mention of it earlier, just before they had entered the dining area. As their meals were set before them, d’Artagnan observed one of the friars enter the pulpit. Ah, that meant that he was about to listen to the Holy Scriptures being read.

With the friar droning on, and not really meaning to, d’Artagnan sort of tuned him out while he dug into his roast. It was nice and tender, just the way he enjoyed it. The juices flowed out from the beef, as soon as his knife cut through it. Savoring the flavor of the light brown gravy he began to feel homesick once more, as the food reminded him of papa Aramis' cooking. Papa would have relished the meal even the steamed carrots that accompanied the roast, to which d’Artagnan pushed off to one side. A smile danced about his lips, noting the other children doing the same. But he did enjoy the roasted potatoes that went along with the dish.

Catching Luc making a face, when the friar’s readings touched upon the subject of tardiness, made d’Artagnan somewhat curious. Perhaps Luc had a close relationship with the topic, he surmised. Continuing to eat d'Artagnan paused, fork halfway to his mouth, upon observing Carl scribbling on a piece of paper that had magically appeared by the petit’s hand. When no one was looking Carl passed it along, by unseen hands underneath the table, until it came to d’Artagnan. Opening it up he barely managed not to laugh upon the name that had been written there. Glancing over at Carl, noting the petit garcon rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan looked over at Luc. So the friar currently putting everyone to sleep was Brother Philippe the one that Luc had earlier mentioned was a hard task master.

Wanting to write a response on the note and send it back to Carl, d’Artagnan couldn’t do more than make hand gestures since he didn’t have a pencil. At least now he understood why the petit had one, since you couldn’t speak during the meal. Suddenly d’Artagnan felt eyes upon him. Looking around he caught the cardinal frowning in displeasure. It seemed like he would have to talk to Luc and Carl later about Brother Philippe. A stray thought hit d’Artagnan then that he had never minded when papa Aramis read passages from their bible. Then again, papa never went on longer than half an hour on Sundays when they didn’t make it to church.

Nibbling on a salad d’Artagnan decided to simply focus on his food, not wanting to disappoint the cardinal further. Sipping his glass of water he noted Brother Philippe step down from the pulpit. Casting his eyes toward the relieved youths, d’Artagnan flashed a wink at them. Wondering if they would be eating like this the entire time during Cardinal Richelieu’s visit, he dismissed the thought. D'Artagnan doubted the abbey could afford to part with such fare on a daily basis. Glancing around the room none of the friars appeared eager to leave the table once the meal had finished. Scriptures were done apparently, as far as d’Artagnan could tell as nobody took Brother Philippe’s place.

Fidgeting in his seat, d’Artagnan fought the urge to enter the kitchen and offer up his skills in the washing and drying of dishes. It had been drilled into him, since he himself had been a petit garcon, that it only showed good manners to help out in any way possible whenever visiting another's home, or in this case a monastery. Here though he was a guest and d’Artagnan wasn’t sure if his offer would be frowned upon. He’d have to ask Luc, once they could freely speak.

Upon Abbott Porcher pushing back his chair to stand, with Cardinal Richelieu doing the same, d’Artagnan hoped that meant everyone would be free to go. When all the other friars followed suit, he kept his fingers crossed. After watching the cardinal and abbott silently leave the hall, along with most of the other friars, d’Artagnan waited for Luc to take the lead. When the older lad signaled to him, he quickly got to his feet filing behind the other children. Now that d’Artagnan was allowed to talk he mentioned to Luc about offering his help to the friars doing kitchen duty.

“Non, d’Artagnan.” Shaking his head, Luc continued. “You’re to be treated just the same as Cardinal Richelieu.”

“Hardly fair to compare me to the cardinal,” d’Artagnan snorted. “For one thing I doubt he had ever washed dishes in his life. Whereas I have and don’t mind doing so.” Noting the stubborn set to Luc's face, d'Artagnan figured he wasn't going to get anywhere. Perhaps speaking with Cardinal Richelieu would have been better. For now he took the older lad's words at face value.

"D'Artagnan," Marie quietly spoke up, "tonight would you mind reading me to sleep?"

"I don't mind at all petite." Tickling Marie under her chin, d'Artagnan chuckled listening to the petite fille's merry giggles renting the air. Then looking at all the children gathered around him, he shook a finger at them. "Remember now, I want all of you to call me - _d'Art_. Something of which I haven't heard as yet." Noting all the bobbing heads, and Luc's amused grin, he was satisfied they would abide by what he wanted.

"Tis just that it sounds odd." Shrugging Luc added, "But we'll get used to it by and by." Throwing a companionable arm across d'Artagnan's shoulder he began to guide the young Gascon through a huge set of double doors. "Time for us to give you the grand tour of the inside now."

++++

_Late in the afternoon now_

Dauery had made sure their goods and weapons had been carefully covered before they continued on their way. According to Tasse, they should reach the monastery within a day's journey. Having over a dozen men in all Dauery had no reason to fear an uprising from the friars, if anyone put up a fuss if it were discovered that they weren't simply weary travelers.

Coming to a clearing, it appeared to be a likely spot for them to settle before losing the light of day. On the morrow would see them closer to actually having a roof over their heads. Holding up a hand, Dauery signaled for his men to stop. "Let's make camp here. Our horses need to rest anyway."

Getting down from his mount, Tasse began removing the horse's saddle and tack. His companions did likewise. Privately he had been thinking he should have kept his mouth shut about the monastery. Now it was too late to do so. His faith was deeply ingrained in him. There'd be no point in trying to talk Dauery out of stopping there. Once the older man set his mind to something, he usually followed through with his plans. Tasse could only pray that there wouldn't be any casualties, if the unforeseen happened and the friars gave them trouble.

++++

_Back to the monastery_

It was time for Marie and Carl to turn in as they were the youngest and needed more sleep than the rest of the children. As promised d'Artagnan sat on the petite fille's bed reading her a bedtime story, with Marie leaning against him. She had picked out Le Maître chat ou le Chat botté. So, with book in hand, d'Artagnan began the tale. It seemed appropriate for Alex to be curled up by Marie's side for this story, since it was about another feline. One that he fervently hoped his pet would never emulate.

Carl didn't want to be left out, so once the petit garcon had washed and changed into his nightshirt he perched himself on the end of Marie's bed. By the time d'Artagnan had finished the story, both Marie and Carl were sound asleep. He left it up to Luc to carry the petit garcon back to their own room they shared.

Quietly standing up, d'Artagnan stretched yawning hugely while doing so. It felt like he was in need of his own bed as well. Putting the book back on the shelf, picking up Alex, he tiptoed out of the room Marie shared with Ana. Yawning again, d'Artagnan realized it had been rather a long day. It wouldn't hurt for him to turn in early. Just as he was about to open the door to his own room, it hit d'Artagnan that he had no idea where Cardinal Richelieu's room was. He would have liked to bid His Eminence a goodnight. Still he was too tired to go ask Luc where the cardinal had been placed. Time enough to discover that upon the morrow.

++++

_Next day, mid-morn - Garrison courtyard_

"Been dull around 'ere since the whelp's away." Stabbing an irritated look over at Aramis, Porthos snorted, "Yeah and I know it ain't all been that long either." He was cleaning his weapons and had them all neatly laid out on top of the bench they usually sat at.

With a long look at Athos, Aramis raised one leg to rest a booted foot upon the bench seat. "You mean I'm not excitement enough around here without throwing d'Art into the mix, mon frere?"

Scowling, Porthos threw the other man a dark look. "You're type of _excitement_ I could do without." Shaking his head, he went on about the business of wiping down his muskets.

"Porthos, I too miss the lad." Laying his own weapons down, across from his friend, Athos borrowed one of the extra rags laying on the table. "I hope they arrived safely and that nothing untoward develops while both of them are at that monastery."

"Mmmmm," humming softly, Aramis tilted his head studying the older man. "Tis a _monastery_." Throwing his arms out wide he asked, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Ah, _merde!_ " Throwing down the rag in disgust, Porthos was ready to pound on Aramis' head. "''E's gone and done it now!"

Eyes wide in confusion Aramis dumbly stared at Porthos, clearly not understanding his larger friend's upset. "Gone and done what exactly?"

"Ya just jinxed 'em is what ya did!"

Rolling his eyes, Athos retorted, "Oh let me think upon all the ways for a moment or two." Tapping his chin Athos then raised a finger. "Tis possible that the monastery could catch on fire." Snapping his fingers he added, "Our son could get lost in the forests surrounding it or Cardinal Richelieu could."

Joining in, Porthos growled, "The whelp could sicken as could His Eminence."

"Alex or Minette could go missing," Athos tacked on.

"Tis not a great loss there." Noting looks of horror reflected on both brother's faces, Aramis quickly corrected himself. "I meant in Minette's case. Seriously, she's one nasty feline. Haven't either of you ever noticed?"

"Ah! Thus speaks the one experienced in dealing with _nasty felines_." Enjoying the banter, Athos observed Aramis' dark eyes narrow. "Of course that is all now in the past."

"You don't have to be so sarcastic about it." Huffing, annoyed at both men, Aramis unsheathed his rapier and began the process of carefully cleaning the blade.

"Tis true, I do not have to be so sarcastic," Athos drawled. "But the world has given me so much material to work with and I do not want to be wasteful."

"Oh come on, Aramis," Porthos chuckled. "Athos and I may 'ave exaggerated a bit but some of what we've said made sense."

"Even the part about _nasty felines_?" Aramis scoffed.

"It ain't him or me that's found ourselves dangling from open windows in half of Paris." Arms folded, legs spread apart, Porthos just grinned at the slightly embarrassed marksman.

"Bien," running a hand through his unruly curls, Aramis' expression turned sheepish, "perhaps a quarter of the city. Half is a tad much. Don't you think?"

"Do not get Porthos started." Blue eyes dancing, Athos smiled.

Hands on hips, chapeau tipped slightly back from his forehead, Aramis let out a long breath. "So then our friendship must be built on a solid foundation of sarcasm, inappropriateness and shenanigans?" His own lips began twitching but he didn't want to give into his amusement just yet.

"If'n the shoe fits." Eyes twinkling, Porthos picked up his poignard from the table. Flipping it up in the air he neatly caught it by the handle on the way back down. "Which in our case it does, Mis."

"Show off," Aramis mumbled.

"Besides, mon ami, just think," tapping the younger man's shoulder, Athos smirked, "my death will probably be caused by me being sarcastic at the wrong time."

"Mon Dieu! What a terrible thing to say!" Pretending shock, with a hand over his heart, Aramis had to admit that Athos had a good point. Sarcasm, for the older man, was as natural as breathing. It would be difficult for his friend to stop at this late stage. Humming to himself, Aramis began wiping down his sword. It became so slippery that he accidentally dropped it. Somehow, when he bent to pick the blade up, he lost his balance and fell face first into the dirt.

"Yeah," Porthos snorted, "that's the way I clean my rapier too." He wasn't trying very hard to conceal his mirth, as his entire body shook with laughter.

Standing beside the marksman's prone form, Athos bent slightly at the waist to stare at him. "Oh mon Dieu! Did you just fall?"

"Non!" Gaining his feet, albeit, unsteadily, Aramis dusted himself off. Glaring at Athos, he snapped, "The ground just came up and smacked me in my face!"

Clearing his throat Athos thought to put the conversation on a safer footing, before punches began to be thrown. "How is our lovely Constance doing?"

The change of topic wasn't very subtle still Aramis warmed to the subject. "She's doing quite well. Queen Anne's been supplying Constance with enough work to last the entire year." Rubbing his chin, he gave a rueful laugh. "One has to wonder at the size of Her Majesty's closet for all those gowns."

"Must be as big as Paris by now." Chuckling at his own jest, Porthos was pleased when Aramis appeared just as amused.

"It at least makes it possible for Constance to make a comfortable living," Athos stated. "Besides I believe the queen loves our petite soeur for her feisty spirit just as much as for Constance's skill with a needle."

Winking, Aramis nodded. "Always love a woman for her personality. They have at least ten so you've got plenty to choose from." Both his brothers stared at him oddly but Aramis shrugged it off and finished what he was doing. He, at least, knew what he meant and that's all that mattered.

Craning his neck, Porthos glanced upward toward the balcony leading to Captain Treville's office. He could have sworn someone called his name. Upon hearing it again, Porthos then saw his commanding officer waving to gain his attention.

" _PORTHOS!_ " shouted Treville for the second time. "I can't find my duty roster for the morrow! Are you scheduled to attend the king's meeting with Monsieur Charpentier?"

Yelling back up Porthos said, "Oui, Captin!"

"That sets my mind at ease! Still I have to locate that roster!" Going back into his office, Treville slammed the door behind him.

"I hate when people ask me what I'm doin' on the morrow," Porthos grunted. "I don't even know what I'm doin' right now!" When two amused faces looked back at him, Porthos threw the cleaning rag at them.

When the trio finished up, they each were going to go off in different directions. Athos to train in swordsmanship, Aramis in target practice and Porthos' specialty in hand-to-hand. But none of them got very far as sounds of an argument reached their ears.

Another new recruit of the cardinal's, finding their way into the Garrison, apparently hadn't been told that the Red Guards now played nice with the Musketeers. This one was engaged in a shouting match with Merle. Over what the inseparables didn't know but it couldn't continue.

As they surrounded the young Red Guard, Porthos was the first to get into the soldier's face. "What's your problem, eh?"

"That one," the Red Guard pointed to the Musketeer he had been arguing with, "wouldn't get out of my way."

"And so," prodded Athos, needing to hear the entirety of it.

"I wanted him to move of course." At this point, the angry Red Guard began to wonder if any of these Musketeers had brains.

The inseparables had just been given the impression that this young guard thought that they were imbeciles for even asking.

"You do realize that the Palais-Cardinal is in the other direction." Pointing a finger where the Red Guard should have been headed, Aramis' lips tightened.

"What do you take me for?" Hand on the hilt of his sword, the guard didn't know whether to challenge the Musketeer for talking to him as if he were an enfant or not.

"Tis better off not said out loud," Athos murmured under his breath. "Merle, do give this fellow a rundown on how things work around here, if you will." Casting a critical eye upon the young upstart, Athos would remember him. It would pay to keep tabs on that one, to make sure he didn't raise the hackles of any other Musketeer.

"'Ave ya noticed that the people with verbal diarrhea are often the people with crap for brains?"

There was so much truth in Porthos' question that Aramis nor Athos could think of a single thing to add.

Not having time to dwell on this situation any longer, Athos knew they all had recruits waiting for them. "Come, let us be off lest we all be late for our assignments." With a casual wave to his friends, Athos headed for the practice area.

++++

 _Notes_ :

 _Refectory tables_ were highly elongated, originally used for dining in monasteries. The original tables were made by hand and created of oak or walnut, the design was based on a trestle-style.

 _Petite fille_ – little girl  
_Petit garcon_ – little boy  
_Petite soeur_ \- little sister  
_Enfant_ \- child

 _Le Maître chat ou le Chat botté:_ Is the 1697 Italian-French fairy tale. 'Master Cat, or The Booted Cat' (Italian: Il gatto con gli stivali; French: Le Maître chat ou le Chat botté), commonly known in English as 'Puss in Boots', is a European literary fairy tale about a cat who uses trickery and deceit to gain power, wealth, and the hand of a princess in marriage for his penniless and low-born master. A tale was written in French at the close of the seventeenth century by Charles Perrault (1628–1703). Despite the year when it appeared in France, I chose that story for d'Artagnan to read to Marie.

 _Quote: "It's true, I don't have to be so sarcastic. But the world has given me so much material to work with and I don't want to be wasteful."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Friendship must be built on a solid foundation of sarcasm, inappropriateness and shenanigans."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "My death will probably be caused by me being sarcastic at the wrong time."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _"OMG did you just fall?" / No! The ground just came up and smacked me in my face!"_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "I hate when people ask me what I am doing tomorrow. I don't even know what I'm doing right now."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Have ya noticed that the people with verbal diarrhea are often the people with crap for brains?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day - somewhere after the noon meal had finished_

_Outside on the monastery grounds_

Picking up a crooked tree branch d'Artagnan then dipped his head toward his opponents. Getting into position he playfully began a mock battle with the other children, taking on all comers. Brandishing his weapon in the air petit Carl's giggles brought joy to d'Artagnan's heart. That was until a lone figure, in a long sackcloth robe, pushed through the brush. The children recognized the him immediately and all play ceased. Throwing away their sticks most of the youths wore guilty expressions, not so Luc. His was more defiant in nature. The friar also looked vaguely familiar to d'Artagnan. Wrinkling his brow in thought, it came to him then who the man was ... twas Brother Philippe.

"Simply because you have a new playmate does not give any of you liberty to skip your lessons," Philippe gently scolded his charges.

"I had no idea," d'Artagnan murmured quietly. "Otherwise I wouldn't have encouraged them."

"Tis not your fault, young man." Eyeing Luc's squirming figure, Philippe pointed a finger at the teenager. "That one knows better though."

Observing the rest of his new friend's crestfallen expressions, while they silently marched past d'Artagnan, he noted Brother Philippe's hand sharply rap the back of Luc's head. Bien, there was nothing d'Artagnan could do about it. Perhaps his time would be better spent with Cardinal Richelieu instead.

Deciding to seek out His Eminence's whereabouts, d'Artagnan took his time walking through the courtyard. While doing so, he noted at least over a dozen men waiting at the gates. Curious, he stood watching one of the friars go to speak with them. After a brief conversation, the friar unlocked the gates to let the group of strangers pass through.

Most of those men followed behind an overlarge wagon led by a team of four horses. It usually didn't take that many mounts to pull a wagon. So d'Artagnan surmised that whatever they were hauling was quite heavy and needed the extra strength behind it. Thinking the group of travelers were simply in need of rest, and this being the most likely place to stop, d'Artagnan decided not to linger. 

++++

Having been informed of their visitor's arrival, Abbott Porcher stepped outside to greet them.

"Bonjour," Porcher dipped his head. "How may our humble monastery be of service?"

"My name is Dauery and my men and I have been traveling nearly non-stop for days now and are in desperate need of a brief respite." Glancing over his shoulder at his men, he added, "Also our horses are in much need of food and water."

"We're at your disposal." Looking for Brother Andre, Porcher signaled him with a raised hand. When the friar came over he said, "Show them where the barn is so that they can take care of their horses." Turning back to the weary traveler he had been speaking with, Porcher clasped his hands together. "I'm afraid not all of your mounts are going to fit inside it but there is plenty of feed to go around." The strangers appeared to be an agreeable lot. While several of the group followed Brother Andre, Porcher led the rest of the men inside the monastery. He would need his fellow brothers to ready the extra rooms.

While nodding his head in passing to Abbott Porcher, as d'Artagnan passed through the monastery doors, he heard part of the conversation between the two men. Having listened to the stranger's deep gravelly voice speaking, it bothered d'Artagnan but he didn't know why it should. Perhaps he would recollect later.

++++

_Library_

"Oh there you are." Finding His Eminence in the library, with Minette sitting comfortably back on the cardinal's lap, d'Artagnan perused the titles on the numerous shelves. "Abbott Porcher's collection rivals yours." Getting nothing but a grunt in response, d'Artagnan felt that it was a touchy subject and let it rest. Pulling out a book he began thumbing through its pages.

"Either you're going to read that or put it back where it belongs," Richelieu said rather dryly. Choosing that moment to loudly mewl upon being disturbed, Minette gave d'Artagnan an icy look.

Noting Minette staring back at him, with something akin to menace in her cat-like gaze, d'Artagnan shuffled as far away from her sharp claws as he could get. Placing the book back on the shelf he bowed before the persnickety creature. "Apologies, Your Highness."

Watching the cardinal's lips curl up into a slow smile, d'Artagnan dared to peek at him. "Did you bring me along to simply disrupt Minette's peaceful tranquility or for her to antagonize myself and Alex?"

Ignoring the question, Richelieu asked one of his own. "Speaking of Alex," raising a brow, he stared at the young Gascon for a few seconds. "Whom is she bothering today?"

"I let Marie take her for a time. They bonded upon their first meeting." Eyeing the white ball of fluff again, d'Artagnan scowled. "Unlike some felines I could mention that are too snooty for their own good."

Marking a place in his book, Richelieu closed it. "Why are you not being entertained by the other children?"

Grimacing, d'Artagnan casually shrugged. "We were outside about to engage in battle when Brother Philippe showed up taking them to task for skipping lessons." Raising a hand to His Eminence so that he could finish, d'Artagnan pressed on. "I had no idea they had done so. Now I feel guilty and at loose ends to boot."

"Nothing to feel guilty over, d'Art."

"Twas what Brother Philippe said too. Still..." Hanging his head down, d'Artagnan let his voice trail off.

"You've already had the grand tour I understand." At the bob of the lad's head, Richelieu lightly stroked Minette's back. "Then all I can say is take advantage of all the literature here and sit awhile. I'm sure Luc and the others would find you when they've completed their studies."

Wanting to have some fun at the cardinal's expense, knowing how much His Eminence prided himself on his own personal library, d'Artagnan teased him. "There certainly are a great number of books here." Turning his head, he noted Cardinal Richelieu was either ignoring him or lost in the book he was currently reading. "I believe the abbott has more here than you do. Very impressive." At the distinctive sound of a book being snapped shut, d'Artagnan smiled to himself.

"On second thought why don't you go check on the horses since you do so well with them," Richelieu suggested, a pulse beating at his temple.

"Trying to be rid of me already?" Standing near the cardinal's chair d'Artagnan glanced down, at she who shall not be named, to watch the cat doing her level best to ignore him. But before His Eminence could speak up d'Artagnan remembered to inform him about the strangers. "The abbott just welcomed in a group of rough looking individuals. I heard Brother Marcus mention that they were in need of a place to stay for a few days.

"How many?" For some reason, that Richelieu couldn't name, this news greatly disturbed him.

"How many men or how many days they plan to stay, Cardinal?"

"Hmmmpf! D'Artagnan..." There were times that young man could try the patience of a saint or so Richelieu believed.

Dark eyes dancing with mischief, d'Artagnan complied. "Slightly over a dozen that I could make out." Noting the frown marring the cardinal's features, he realized His Eminence was not pleased with d'Artagnan's answer.

"Too many," Richelieu quietly murmured, more to himself than the boy.

"Huh?"

"Groups of that number usually spell trouble." Lifting Minette from his lap Richelieu placed her back upon the chair he'd just vacated. "Did they have anything with them?"

"A huge wagon covered with a tarpaulin so I couldn't make out what they hauled. It took four horses to pull it so whatever they're transporting must weigh quite a bit." Biting his lip, he thought upon that man's voice again. It had struck a disturbing chord within d'Artagnan and he couldn't shake the feeling that it boded ill.

Observing the lad, Richelieu could certainly see something preying on the boy's mind. "What?"

"I didn't see his face but the stranger conversing with the abbott... the sound of his voice... was familiar to me somehow." Glancing at the cardinal's pensive face, d'Artagnan leaned against the book shelves with arms folded. "Perhaps after I get a chance to see him again I'll no why it bothers me so."

With the amount of new faces converging on them, along with the concern Richelieu was offered from the young Gascon, he didn't want to waste anytime. "Come along with me."

D'Artagnan didn't bother asking where they were going, automatically following His Eminence out of the library.

++++

_Monastery rooftop_

"Why are we here?" Stepping outside, onto one of the level rooftops, d'Artagnan noted an abundance of caged pigeons. Confused as to why they were here, he looked over at Cardinal Richelieu with an unvoiced question upon his lips.

"Vincent breeds homing pigeons, d'Art." Before Richelieu had left the library, he had the foresight to grab a sheet of paper and writing instrument. Hastily he wrote something down on it then neatly folded the note up. Removing one of the pigeons from its cage Richelieu secured the missive on one of the bird's legs. "Tis a quick way of communicating with one another."

The still puzzled expression d'Artagnan wore wasn't lost on him. "I may be jumping the gun but tis better to be safe than sorry." Releasing the pigeon into the air Richelieu watched its flight pattern heading directly for Paris. "They're trained to go back and forth from this monastery to the Palais-Cardinal.

"May I ask what you wrote?" Arms folded once more, d'Artagnan's head was tilted to the side studying the cardinal's concerned features.

"Once my letter reaches its destination my Red Guards will see to it that it lands in Captain Treville's hands."

"Then you've asked for more help. Do you not think the guards that came along with us are enough protection if trouble arises?"

"Non I do not." Stabbing the youth with a cold look, Richelieu expounded on his theory. "If these travelers turn out to be maladrins and they decide to turn on us our guards could find themselves incapacitated when least expecting it."

"Rendering our men useless to aid us." D'Artagnan understood why the cardinal was taking extra precautions. "The friar's vows don't extend to violence either. That much I know. So there wouldn't be much help in that quarter," his lips pursed ruefully. "I really need to get another look at that man."

"While you do that I'll go and locate the rest of our guards to apprise them of my suspicions." Patting the lad on the back, Richelieu led the way back inside the monastery. "As soon as you find out anything, come to me."

++++

"Have my brothers settled your men in their rooms?" It never bothered Porcher to receive strangers into their midst. After all, he and his fellow friars were here to serve God's will. What better way than to lend aid in this manner. The location of the monastery made it a hub for travelers, either going to Paris or coming from that city. Also travelers to and from Spain have found their way here as well. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for any of them to play host to Spanish peasants from time to time.

"Oui, Abbott," Dauery replied. "Merci for your kindness. Now I look forward to washing off the dust and grime of my travels and then rest for a time."

As Dauery departed, Porcher admitted to himself that this man made him slightly nervous. It probably was the way Dauery's eyes constantly shifted all over the place while they spoke. Going off to find Armand, he tried to shake the feeling off.

++++

Hoping it was just his overactive imagination, d'Artagnan went in search of the stranger whose voice still lingered in his brain. Coming upon two men talking, he held back. Oui, there was the newcomer speaking with Brother Simon. Something about locating the room they had given him. Daring to get as close as he could, d'Artagnan hid himself behind a slightly opened door which led to one of the linen closets. He only knew that because of Marie hiding in there during a game of hide and seek.

"What are you doing, lad?"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, d'Artagnan rounded on the person who had snuck up behind him. Upon discovering it was Brother Philippe, wearing his usual scowl, d'Artagnan placed a finger to his lips. He could tell his actions hadn't gone over well with the friar. Motioning for the brother to come closer d'Artagnan reached up to place a hand upon the man's head, effectively pushing the friar down into a crouching position. "I'm following Cardinal Richelieu's orders."

"What could His Eminence possibly want with you spying on our guests?" Philippe whispered. Frowning when the youngster waved a hand back at him to be quiet, he promised himself to follow-up with Abbott Porcher on this.

Attention back on the stranger's face, d'Artagnan's mouth fell open in shock. His stomach rolled, upon the memory that came back to him. Now d'Artagnan new why he had felt disturbed. In his haste to inform Cardinal Richelieu upon his discovery, d'Artagnan toppled poor Brother Philippe to the ground. The man landed in an ungainly heap upon the floor. If the matter hadn't been so dire d'Artagnan would have felt amused but as it was he could only pray they hadn't been seen nor heard. "Apologies, but I have to see His Eminence right away." Leaving the friar, still on the ground grumbling behind him, d'Artagnan quietly made his way down the hall.

++++

It didn't take d'Artagnan long to locate the cardinal. Mostly because he nearly tripped over Minette. The feline yowl emanating from her even raised the hair on d'Artagnan's arms. "I'll give you a treat later to make up for it but I have to find your master first."

"You've found me, d'Art." Bending down to pick up his fussing cat, Richelieu began petting her. "I was looking for her anyway." Noting that the boy appeared quite pale, his own worry grew. Gently guiding the Gascon inside the room Richelieu now used he placed Minette on top of the bed. "Judging by your lack of color I assume the right call had been made to send for more soldiers?"

"His name is Dauery. The only reason I knew that was because over several months ago, when Constance and I were in the city, papa Athos ended up in a sword fight with him." When the cardinal indicated for d'Artagnan to sit down he shook his head, preferring to stand. "Papa won and Dauery was arrested. Later when talking with papa I found out that Dauery was a voleur. His specialty was gunrunning."

"Mon Dieu!" Legs feeling slightly weak Richelieu sank down upon the bed, completely forgetting he had placed his pet there. Upon nearly squishing Minette flat, Richelieu jumped back up watching her streak off the bed like lightning. Standing off in a far corner of the room she arched her back, hissing at him with claws extended.

D'Artagnan didn't know whether to laugh upon the feline's near miss with tragedy or be appalled upon his discovery of the dangerous voleur now residing within the monastery. "How long for that pigeon to get to Paris do you think?"

"Tis shortly after three p.m.," Richelieu said. "Assuming the pigeon doesn't run into any unforeseen conditions it should arrive there around six p.m. if not earlier."

"I pray you asked the captain not to tarry. A lot could happen during the time it takes for them to get here." Realizing d'Artagnan wasn't saying anything Cardinal Richelieu didn't already know, he didn't add anything further.

"If they push themselves we could have reinforcements here within two days." Still, d'Artagnan was right. Anything could happened. "I feel in need of visiting the chapel." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Richelieu sighed deeply.

"What do we do in the meantime?" Concerned for his new young friends, as well as all the holy men living here, d'Artagnan knew he had to prepare them.

"We make plans, d'Art." Making the sign of the cross in the air, Richelieu's steady gaze rested on the youngster standing beside him. "You must have faith, mon ami."

"Which I have, Cardinal."

"Ah, but did you know that faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase?"

"Sounds like something papa Aramis would say." Acknowledging His Eminence's words with a nod of his head, d'Artagnan would remember to tell papa Aramis what Cardinal Richelieu had just told him.

"Aramis, as the rest of your pères, is a fine man and soldier for France." Running a hand down the back of his neck, Richelieu went to sit down upon an empty chair. "I wish we had more men of that caliber in our ranks."

Somewhat offended, on behalf of his other Musketeer friends, d'Artagnan's expression darkened.

Noting that, Richelieu held up both hands to placate the boy. "I don't mean to downplay the skills of Treville's regiment nor my own for that matter." When the young pup's face lost that belligerent look, Richelieu was relieved. "Tis just that men such as the inseparables don't exactly grow on trees."

"I'll remember to tell them so." Giving Minette a wide berth, d'Artagnan made it to the door unscathed. "I'm going to speak with Luc and the other children. Perhaps even find out if there are any escape routes we could make use of if needs must."

"An excellent idea." Pride shone in Richelieu's eyes when they rested on the lad. He silently agreed with nearly everyone's opinion that one day d'Artagnan would be a great Musketeer and leader of men. "Vincent showed me around their wine cellars just last eve. There could be another way out down there."

"I'll talk to Luc right away then, Your Eminence."

After the boy left, Richelieu felt something soft wrap itself around his left leg. "Oh now you've forgiven me, eh?" Shaking a finger at his pet he bent down to pick Minette up. "I live in hope that one day your manners would improve." Setting her down once again on the bed, he added as an afterthought, "I'll pray upon it."

++++

_Over three and a half hours later, Palais-Cardinal - Richelieu's office_

It took the homing pigeon longer than Cardinal Richelieu had believed to make its arrival. Due only to heavy rains the pigeon had encountered during its journey. Landing on the windowsill the bird walked back and forth, having been trained to not leave until what it had been carrying was removed. Finally a door opened and a Red Guard approached having spotted the pigeon patiently waiting. Removing the note from the bird's leg, he quickly read it. Tucking the missive into the pocket of his jacket the guard gently picked up the pigeon and placed it in a cage. He figured that Captain Treville would want to send a message back in response. As soon as that was done, turning on his heels, the guard rushed out of the room.

++++

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

Upon the delivery of the note, Treville had thanked and dismissed the cardinal's guard. Sinking into his chair, having read the missive now, he began to wonder if His Eminence was seeing assassins where none lurked. Richelieu and d'Artagnan had barely arrived in Douai and now this letter arrived. Still the boy's uneasiness, regarding the voice d'Artagnan had overheard, unsettled Treville the most. The lad had an uncanny sixth sense when it came to trouble brewing. Granted, that same _trouble_ seemed to drop in d'Artagnan's lap more often than not. Perhaps this concern of Cardinal Richelieu's wasn't as unwarranted as he had first believed.

Let's see. Drumming his fingers upon the top of his desk, Treville talked out loud to himself. "They left with a contingent of four Musketeers and four Red Guards." Though Leon was the only senior soldier amongst the men. It concerned him now, more so than before, over the inexperienced Musketeers that had gone to Douai with His Eminence. At the time most of Treville's more seasoned soldiers were on varied assignments for King Louis. He had kept the inseparables at the Garrison to help things run more smoothly with the new recruits. Now in hindsight that may have been the worst decision that Treville could have made. As for the Red Guards, he knew two of the men had seen action in battle prior to their service with Richelieu.

Treville knew that he couldn't leave the city right now, for the very same reason he couldn't be part of the detail for the cardinal. His Majesty had involved him in a lengthy political tangle with the monarch's council, which wouldn't end anytime soon. It frustrated him deeply. He was a man of action not of politics, the latter of which everyone knew Treville hated with a passion. Striding out to the balcony, he scanned the courtyard for three familiar figures. Spotting them, Treville bellowed. " _ARAMIS... PORTHOS... ATHOS... YOU THREE... MY OFFICE NOW!_ "

++++

_Notes:_

Using my on-line distance calculater, it's 198 km (4 & a half days) from Douai, France to Paris, France. Broken down it equals 123 miles. So assuming the homing pigeon's flight was around 50 mi. per hour that would mean it could reach, barring bad weather, the Palais-Cardinal within a 3 hour time period. That's if my math and calculator are correct. So let's just assume it is and go with that for this story.

The homing pigeon is a variety of domestic pigeon, selectively bred for its ability to find its way home over extremely long distances. Flights as long as 1,800 km (1,100 miles) have been recorded by birds in competitive pigeon racing.[3] Their average flying speed over moderate 640 km (400 miles) distances is around 80 km/h (50 miles per hour) but speeds of up to 140 km/h (90 miles per hour) have been observed in top racers for short distances.

 _Voleur_ \- thief

 _Maladrins_ \- brigands

 _Quote: "Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase?"_ \- from Inspirational Quotes Magazine from a Pinterest website with Aunty Acid quotes.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same time in the eve_

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

Having heard the urgency in their captain's voice, the inseparables rushed up the stairs. Upon entering the room, they wondered upon the way the older officer kept running fingers through his thinning hair.

When his men stood before him Treville tossed the letter upon his desk, pushing it toward Athos. "Read that and tell me what you think." Observing the three soldiers cram together to read the missive, Treville's eyebrow rose when Athos slapped a hand to his forehead. Followed closely by Porthos' cursing a blue streak and Aramis kissing his crucifix. Their reactions told him a great deal and that they, more than likely, were agreeing with Treville upon his own concerns.

"Merde!" Swearing again, Porthos glowered at the floorboards. "Our kid can't seem ta go anywhere without trouble followin' 'im." Looking from one friend to the other, he grumbled. "I think we should chain 'im ta 'ome next time someone offers ta take the runt away."

"In another life our son must have royally pissed someone off." Slumping into a vacant chair, Aramis buried his face in his hands.

Waving the note in the air Athos asked, "How come you by this?"

While Treville went into an in-depth explanation over the homing pigeons it presented the opportunity for the inseparables to collect themselves. Taking in Athos' closed off expression, however, gave him pause. His lieutenant was silently building up a head of steam before exploding. To stave off any destruction of his office, Treville stood up leaning forward over his desk to stare into Athos' face. "Richelieu could be entirely wrong."

"Why do I feel that His Eminence is _entirely_ correct then?" Countering his captain's optimism Athos own eyebrow rose, giving Treville a pointed look. "Last time when we ignored our son's feelings upon a matter, there had been rash of robberies amongst the cities top merchants."

"D'Art had seen strangers in town earlier that day and told us we should keep an eye on them," Aramis reluctantly admitted, somewhat sheepishly. "We, of course in our infinite wisdom, chose to not pay any attention to the pup."

Snorting, Porthos remembered that time as well. "Runt 'ad a bad feelin' about 'em and turned out rightly so."

"If I recall we never caught those voleurs." At the time the incident had occurred, Treville had reamed a new one at his men over letting those voleurs get away. This was the first he had heard about d'Artagnan having been uneasy back then. Glancing at his three embarrassed soldiers, Treville didn't speak more upon it. Water under the proverbial bridge at this juncture. Now that the inseparables had informed him of how the young Gascon had acted back then, he changed his view upon Richelieu's note. "I suggest _this time_ we do pay serious attention as to d'Art's feelings about that unknown voice he overhead."

"I also agree with Cardinal Richelieu in regards to his own concerns about those strangers," Athos said. "A company of that number is suspect." Slapping his leather glove against his thigh, Athos' eyes became a turbulent sea of blue. "Our pup told His Eminence that those strangers had an oversized wagon with them pulled by a team of four horses." Shifting his gaze to his friends, Athos cocked his head slightly, he noted looks of worry reflected in their own eyes. "I fear those men are carrying something dangerous."

"By now surely d'Art's been able to catch sight of that individual and now knows why he felt troubled." One hand still gripping his cross, Aramis' helpless gaze encompassed all in the room. "Depending upon whom those travelers turn out to be our son and first minister could be in dire jeopardy."

"Tis why I'm going to send a message back to the monastery this very minute to inform them that there will be a squad of soldiers coming their way." Sitting back down, Treville grabbed a sheet of paper. Before beginning his note, he glanced up at the men. "Do any of you have something to add?" Receiving only shakes of their heads, Treville began to write a reply. Upon hearing Athos' clearing his throat, he looked up again. "Oui?"

"I just thought of something, sir." Clearly looking uncomfortable, Athos leaned forward and asked, "Would you tell d'Art not to do anything of a rash nature?"

Snorting upon the request, Treville's lips curled upward. "That's like telling the sun not to shine but I will jot that down."

"Our son 'as a good and kind 'eart," Porthos gruffly said. "I'll be amazed if'n the whelp's not already formin' a plan of defense if things go cock-eyed."

"Something none of us needs to hear at the moment, mon frere." Glaring at the large man, Aramis' eyes darkened.

"Just sayin' is all." Knowing he had upset his friend, Porthos kept anything else he would have added to himself.

"I know Richelieu left here with a compliment of eight guards but if things turn rotten they could become incapacitated quickly, leaving the monastery relatively defenseless." Not looking up, from his writing, he missed the three pale faces staring down upon the floor.

"I'll gather more men together to ride out with us?" Halfway to the door, Athos listened to his commanding officer's words.

"Choose enough to not leave the Garrison or Royal Palace defenseless, Athos." HIs face turning grim, Treville pressed on. "If those men do turn out to be maladrins and discover that Cardinal Richelieu is staying there..." he didn't need to expound upon his theory.

++++

_Near ten p.m._

_Douai Monastery - Abbott Porcher's room_

Having been apprised as to whom he and his brothers were now housing under their roof, Porcher had spent many hours in the chapel praying that all would be well. He still wasn't certain that Armand sending that missive to the Garrison had been the wisest course of action. Still Porcher would not want to be responsible for anything happening to his old friend nor the children under his own care.

Trying to focus on a certain passage in his Bible, Porcher heard a light pecking upon one of the windows. At first he ignored the sounds but as it continued, marking the place he had left off, Porcher went over to the window. Lifting it up, he should have been surprised to see his pigeon standing there but he wasn't. He knew word from the Garrison wouldn't be long in coming and so here it was. Removing the note Porcher quickly read it. Frowning, he threw on a robe and went to seek out his friend.

++++

_Cardinal Richelieu's room_

"Vincent." Letting him enter, Armand noted the other man's appearance. His friend was quite disturbed. More so now than when he had earlier informed Vincent that the strangers at the gate were nothing more than gunrunners. "Has something happened already?" Taking the letter shoved into his hands he scanned the contents. When finished, Armand crumbled it up throwing the missive into a waste bin near his chair. "The contents of this have caused you grave concern?"

"Armand, I don't want a war here." Pacing in a circle, Vincent stabbed the other man with a torn look. "Tis a place of God." Holding up a finger he added, "And have you forgotten we have children here?"

Grim lines formed about Armand's mouth. "A bit hard for me to do when I brought d'Art along with me." Stopping Vincent's nervous pacing with a hand to his friend's shoulder, unspoken thoughts passed between them. "Trust in God."

With a raised brow, Vincent slowly nodded his head. "When you are going through something hard and wonder where God is remember the teacher is always quiet during a test."

"Amen, mon ami."

++++

_Next morn_

_Down in the wine cellar_

All of the children wanted to come along. The younger ones simply thought Luc was giving a tour of the cellars to d'Artagnan. Only Dani, next to the oldest, knew what was going on. So with Luc in the lead, closely followed by the young Gascon, the other youngsters paraded behind them.

D'Artagnan, having spoken with Luc upon the cardinal's and his own misgivings over the strangers, had been eager to see what the older lad had hinted at.

Noting the line of large barrels positioned against the brick walls, d'Artagnan knew they held wine that the friars took great pains to make. On one of the alcoves had been fixed a large wine rack filled with bottles. Still on Luc's heels d'Artagnan came to a stop, as did the others, when he was finally shown the escape duct.

"We use this sometimes to avoid our lessons," Luc admitted, not ashamed of that one bit.

"Who else knows about this?" An ideal way to make an escape if needed, d'Artagnan reminded himself to tell the cardinal.

"Only the children and I." As the rest of the youths drew closer together, Luc showed d'Artagnan the narrow drainage duct in the wall. Glancing at the others, Luc spoke quietly. "I'm going to take d'Art up. I want everyone else to stay put." There were moans and groans to this announcement but he held up a hand and instantly everyone became silent.

It was a good thing that d'Artagnan wasn't claustrophobic. It was a snug fit. When they got to the top, Luc pushed up a broken metal grille that covered the drainage sump. Pulling himself out, d'Artagnan was a bit on the wet side. Yet he was happy to note how close they were to the tree-lined area. That alone made this a worthy escape plan. The only drawback that he could think upon was that if one were of a heavier built it would become difficult to maneuver through the escape duct.

A clap to Luc's shoulder showed him that d'Artagnan was well pleased. "You think this would work then?"

"If needs must, tis the best we have." Looking around the area again, d'Artagnan hummed to himself. "Not sure how much the cardinal's going to enjoy making use of it." Lightly shrugging, an impish smile dancing across his face, he added, "Then again beggars can't be choosers." With Luc chuckling upon his remark, d'Artagnan made his way back down the duct first.

++++

_The previous eve_

_En route to Douai_

Not wanting to waste precious time, after seeing Captain Treville, Athos had immediately gone over to the barracks. Upon explaining what was going on to the men he felt a lump build up in his throat noting how many of them volunteered to go to Douai, without Athos making it an order. Granted, the majority of the soldiers had been made up of young faces, most of them were raw recruits. What they lacked in experience though they more than made up for with their enthusiasm.

With many of their senior Musketeers already on missions, Athos couldn't leave the Garrison undefended. So, shortly after receiving Cardinal Richelieu's letter, by the time they all made their way past the Garrison gates the soldiers numbered a dozen in all.

Aramis was having a hard time holding Belle back. It was as if she understood the sensitive nature of their journey and wanted to take the lead. "Think if we pushed it a bit we could cut our time, Athos?" It was dark now. None of them had wanted to wait for the light of day to set out.

"I can eat and drink in my saddle," Porthos interrupted. "I'm sure I speak for the rest of the men as well."

"Commendable," Athos murmured. "Twas what I was going to suggest to everyone. But we still have to be careful not to tire our mounts out."

"I'm sure a few stops along the way won't hurt." Eyes adjusting to the darkness covering the area, Aramis kept one hand on Belle's reins while the other gripped his pistol.

"Think the whelp's okay?" Worried more than he wanted to admit, Porthos looked back and forth between his brothers.

"Actually," drawled Athos, "I have been now trying to look on the positive side of this."

"There's a _positive side_?" Rolling his eyes, even knowing Athos wouldn't be able to see it, Aramis was curious as to the answer.

"All of us could be reacting like overprotective mother hens." Shooting a look over at the marksman, Athos allowed himself a slight smirk. "Aramis is well acquainted with that feeling."

Hearing again the all too familiar sarcastic quality to his eldest friend's voice, Aramis grimaced. "Do you not ever tire of it? I mean...really!"

"Mmmmm." Humming softly Athos tilted his head toward Aramis, the latter riding abreast.

"I swear every other word out of your mouth lately drips with sarcasm." Noting that he was still sitting in his saddle, and that Athos hadn't knocked him from it, Aramis was happy he had not met the hardened earth with a loud thump.

"I love sarcasm." Roger snorted softly, as if in agreement with Athos. "Without it I would really have to pretend to like a lot of people."

"Quite a defense mechanism ya got goin' for yourself." From Porthos' position behind his brothers, he was aware of low snickering coming from a few of the older Musketeers that had volunteered for this assignment.

"I believe so." Keeping his eyes trained on the terrain, Athos did not voice his true feelings to either Aramis or Porthos. It would be a terrible time for France if something untoward were to happen to His Eminence. But it would be a tragedy of immense proportions if they lost d'Artagnan. Athos would simply fall apart, into so many pieces, that no one would be able to put him back together. Same could be said for his close friends.

Until d'Artagnan came into his life, Athos had not been what one would call a God fearing man. Since having raised the young Gascon, from the age of three, he had found himself in church more often than Athos would have liked. Still one had to set an example for the pup, aside from Aramis that is who put them all to shame in that regard. Being Treville's lieutenant was a huge responsibility. Athos would have to present a calm front that he did not feel, simply to set an example for the other Musketeers with them. It was a trick he had learned long ago from Treville and one that Athos used often.

++++

_Present day again_

_Douai - Monastery_

Dani and Luc were the oldest of the children and, because of d'Artagnan's warning, were being extra vigilant. There had been no need to burden the younger children as yet with their concerns. They just made sure to keep the others as far away from the strangers as possible.

D'Artagnan also informed Luc and Dani that Cardinal Richelieu was going to be dressed as one of the friars and to not act surprised when they saw His Eminence. It was dangerous for their visitors to know that the first minister was staying here.

Troubled that the younger ones would accidentally slip, Luc had come up with an unusual idea. "Cardinal Richelieu is playing a game of make believe just like Carl and Marie enjoy." Receiving four nods of approval, including Ana and Gabby, he was relieved that they took his words at face value. "So don't address him as Cardinal, His Eminence or My Lord, when you see him."

Speaking softly, Marie was confused. "Then what do we call him?"

"Just as _Brother Armand_." Kneeling down before petite Marie, d'Artagnan dropped a kiss upon her nose. Standing back up he turned to Luc and Dani, lowering his voice. "The cardinal told me that all the friars are aware of the circumstances."

"Fat lot of good that's going to do us," Luc snapped. "They won't fight back. Tis not their way."

"I know." Rubbing his chin, d'Artagnan then snapped his fingers. "You, Dani and I are going to take a trip to the forge."

Broad smiles crossed both Luc and Dani's faces.

"D'Art, I like how you think." Punching the young Gascon lightly upon the upper arm, Luc laughed.

"So do I." Grinning, d'Artagnan followed his friends to the friar's forge.

++++

_The Forge_

Looking over the equipment, d'Artagnan, Luc and Dani ruled out using the heavier pieces such as the anvil, fullers and hardy. There was no way they would have been able to lift any of those less alone smuggle them into the monastery without being seen. On the other hand pilfering the smaller items into the sacks they carried had been no problem at all.

The sack d'Artagnan had now held a variety of hammers from sledge to ball-peen. The forge was supplied with a large number of them so the ones he took most likely would go unnoticed by the friars. Dani's sack held several pairs of tongs and chisels. While Luc picked up the slack tub which really was just an average-sized bucket. When in use, it was filled with water for cooling off hot metals that were dipped into it. They managed to fit their sacks into the drainage duct, without any of them getting stuck. Though there had been some difficulty with the slack tub. Determination won out however, with Luc pushing down upon the bucket from above and d'Artagnan tugging from below.

"We should clean up before Brother Tomas sees us," Luc suggested. Their clothes were slightly damp from the escape duct. In his case, Luc's tunic had collected smudges of dirt from his time in the forge.

All in agreement, the three youths split up going to their respective rooms.

++++

_Chapel_

Peering inside the chapel, Tasse silently stepped inside listening to the friars softly chanting. It soothed something in his own troubled soul.

" _Kyrie eleison... Christe eleison... Kyrie eleison... Gloria in excelsis Deo..._ "

Slowing withdrawing from the room, Tasse came to a sudden stop when he backed into Dauery.

"Anything of interest?" Indicating with a tilt of his head toward the chapel where his man came from, Dauery stared at Tasse.

"They're at prayers. I didn't want to disturb them." Wanting to steer Dauery in another direction, Tasse steps quickened as he walked away from the chapel.

"What ails you?" Dauery asked. "Ever since we arrived you've seemed agitated for some reason."

"All these holy men make me nervous." It was a lie but Dauery wouldn't know that.

"We'll only be here a few days, mon ami. Then we'll be on our way." Grinning, Dauery rubbed his hands together. "Think upon all that money we'll take in from the Spanish." Tasse didn't say anything to that and when Dauery was about to comment upon it he was interrupted by Etienne, another of his men.

Pulling Dauery close, Etienne whispered something to him.

"Are you positive?" Thinking Etienne didn't know what he was talking about, Dauery shook the man by the collar of his shirt.

"Of course I am," Etienne angrily snarled. "I know the difference between a red cape and a blue one." Tugging himself free of Dauery's hold, he straightened his shirt. "They certainly weren't friars. Not with those weapons they were carrying."

Turning a speculative gaze upon the monastery, now that they were outside, Dauery exchanged a long look with Tasse. "To what purpose would it serve King Louis to have royal guards here?"

Whatever the reason, Tasse wished himself further away from here. Preferably to the border of Spain. The devious look within Dauery's eyes boded ill for the holy men living here, making Tasse inwardly shudder.

"Cat got your tongue all of a sudden," snapped Dauery, his patience coming to an end with Tasse's silence.

Instead it was Etienne who put forth an idea. "Something of great value must be within the monastery."

Before Dauery could respond, another of his men came running up to him.

"I've been walking around the grounds," Leonce said, catching his breath. "Back behind the monastery, partially hidden in the woods, you'll never guess what I found."

"I'm not in the mood for guessing games, Leonce!" First Tasse was acting not like himself and this one wanted Dauery to play twenty questions.

"A carriage bearing a royal crest," Leonce proudly finished, as if he had found a pot of gold underneath a rainbow.

"Let's see." Holding up one finger, Dauery ticked off what they new so far. "First there's Musketeers and Red Guards." Holding up another finger he continued, "Now we add a royal carriage into the mix. It could mean only one of two things." Glancing at his men, Dauery grinned. "Either there's a member of the royal household being entertained..."

"Or Cardinal Richelieu himself is staying here." Not certain how that changed their plans, Etienne would follow whatever Dauery told him to do.

With dread filling his heart, Tasse couldn't count on what Dauery's next move would be. Having known the man for the past several years, it wouldn't be anything good.

++++

_Notes:_

Voleurs: thieves  
Maladrins - brigands

 _Quote: "When you are going through something hard and wonder where God is remember the teacher is always quiet during a test."_ \- from Scripture quotes on Pinterest."

 _Quote: "I love sarcasm. Without it, I'd really have to pretend to like a lot of people."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

If interested about the equipment used in a forge here's a link: _https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forge#Forging_equipment_

 _Kyrie_ , a transliteration of Greek Κύριε, vocative case of Κύριος (Kyrios), is a common name of an important prayer of Christian liturgy, also called the _Kyrie eleison_ (Κύριε ἐλέησον) meaning -  _Lord, have mercy_.  
_Christe eleison_ (Χριστέ ἐλέησον) means - _Christ, have mercy_.  
_Gloria in excelsis Deo_ (Latin for _Glory to God in the highest_ ) is a Christian hymn known also as the Greater Doxology (as distinguished from the "Minor Doxology" or Gloria Patri) and the Angelic Hymn, Hymn of the Angels. The name is often abbreviated to _Gloria in Excelsis_ or simply _Gloria_. The hymn begins with the words that the angels said when the birth of Christ was announced to shepherds, as recorded in Luke 2:14 (in Latin). Other verses were added very early, forming a doxology.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Inside the Monastery_

Acting inconspicuously Dauery walked around various areas of the monastery, hunting for his quarry. His shrewd gaze, however, never missed anyone that came within his vicinity. None of the holy men were dressed richly or appeared out of place. If a royal personage, or the cardinal himself, were here they were cleverly disguised. It would make seeking them out all the more harder. Then again, Dauery had all the time in the world to search.

++++

_Abbott Porcher’s office_

Upon opening the door to leave, Porcher was startled to gaze upon the face of a stranger standing there shifting from foot to foot.

“My humble apologies, Abbott.” Nervously, Tasse glanced over his shoulder. It wouldn’t do for word to get back to Dauery that he had been seen speaking privately with the abbott.

“May I help you?” Stepping aside, Porcher ushered the man into his office.

So uncomfortable was he that at first words failed Tasse. Upon the door closing behind him with a resounding click, he summoned up the courage to speak. “I have to warn you that everyone here is in jeopardy.” Going on to tell the abbott the truth about Dauery, he swallowed hard. “They already discovered the Musketeers and Red Guards stationed around the monastery, along with a royal carriage that was hidden amongst the brush.” When Abbott Porcher’s graying head bent down, Tasse knew then that someone of high import resided within this holy place.

“What does Dauery think he knows?” Rubbing two fingers back and forth across his forehead, Porcher wasn’t sure how much he could trust this man.

“He’s already assumed someone from the Royal Palace is here or if not that then the cardinal himself.” Shrugging a shoulder, Tasse added, “So far Dauery hasn’t discovered that person but he’s looking.”

“Merci, mon fils,” Porcher dipped his head. “I appreciate you taking the chance to come to me with this information.” Having not let on that he already knew that they were gunrunners, Porcher played the innocent in that respect. But the knowledge about the group of voleurs finding out about the guards and carriage filled him with dismay. Realizing he needed to tell Armand as soon as possible Porcher thanked his guest once again, watching him walk away. Now to find his old friend.

++++

_Elsewhere outside on the grounds_

Gathered together, Leon, Bernard, Michel and Roux comprised the Musketeer guard for His Eminence. Simon, Yvain, Tristan and Abel were the cardinal’s men. Right now all of them were very worried. One of the friars delivered a note to them bearing Cardinal Richelieu’s writing. It warned them of gunrunners that were now housed within the monastery.

Bien, they were no strangers to adversity and had beaten the odds before. Knowledge is power so they say. The _knowledge_ that reinforcements were on their way made all the guards spirits lift. They could only pray that none of those maladrins discovered Richelieu’s presence. With worry in their hearts they took up their positions again, on the alert now for whatever may happen.

++++

In another area of the monastery, Minette had been prowling around until she encountered someone blocking her path. Arching her back, claws extended, she hissed in anger that anyone would dare intrude upon her.

“Someone want to get this cat out of my way before she loses one of her nine lives?” Etienne snarled, not caring that he was in a monastery. He had never liked the furry creatures to begin with.

“She won’t hurt you.” Insulted on Minette’s behalf, Carl picked her up to gently cradle her in his arms.

“Could have fooled me.” Walking past the child, grumbling the entire way about the many ways to skin a cat, Etienne disappeared down another corridor. When entering the dining hall, he became amused noting Leonce was having the same difficulty. Twas another cat, mirroring the other in its upset.

“Alex, shame on you.” Scolding her, d’Artagnan lifted his pet up to look her in the eyes. “They are guests here. Treat them with respect.” He too held Alex in his arms, smiling apologetically at the other man. “Usually she’s a good judge of character,” he said tongue in cheek, noting his remark went over the stranger’s head. “Alex must be having an off day.” Walking away from their guest, d’Artagnan overheard the man complain to another person about nasty felines. “Here I thought only Minette was the _nasty_ one,” he murmured softly to his cat. Thinking upon the comparison, it made d’Artagnan chuckle. “Know when to choose your battles, Alex.” Stroking her marmalade head, he went to locate the other children. It would amuse them to find out Alex was gaining a reputation similar to the cardinal's pet.

“I think that kid just insulted me.” Scratching his head, Leonce turned to glare at the boy’s back. Immediately he turned back again, upon Etienne’s rough laughter.

“I believe that _cat_ was the one that did that.” Still laughing, Etienne left his fellow companion alone still stewing over the insult.

++++

Not looking where she was going, in her rush to get somewhere, Marie bumped into a long pair of legs. Off balance she plopped upon the floor with an _oomph_.

“Ah, pardon, petite.” Bending down, Richelieu picked her back up. “All right now?”

Marie’s head bobbed up and down twice. “Oui, Brother Armand.” Remembering to keep up the pretense, she too kept up the charade.

“Excellent!” Smiling down into her gamin face with delight, Richelieu was pleased. “You remembered, oui?”

“You’re playing a game,” she whispered.

“Mmmmm.” Humming in response to Marie’s words, Richelieu observed the petite fille off and running again. “A very dangerous game indeed.”

++++

_Dining hall_

Whispering fiercely to the abbott, Philippe felt the older man wasn’t heeding his words. “But what are we to do if they find out about _him_? We can’t protect ourselves here.”

“Take into consideration, Brother Philippe, that aside from the guards already in place we have the best protection of all,” Porcher said. “God watches over us.”

“When the time comes I do hope God is good with a sword.” Upon the abbott frowning at him, Philippe immediately regretted his sharp retort. Promising himself to say penance later for his hasty words he was on the verge of bidding the abbott goodbye, when a blur of orange ran over his sandal covered feet.

Ana and Gabby ran past the two men as they gave chase to Alex.

“Pray God watches over our young charges with extra diligence,” said Philippe.

“They are so young and excitable.” Amused, Porcher observed the two petites literally running around in circles after the cat.

Huffing, rolling his eyes, Philippe had a different take on the youngsters. “They never pay attention to anything that is going on around them.”

Raising a brow, Porcher studied the younger friar. “I believe one day they’ll surprise you.”

“Still I worry.” Eyes troubled, Philippe’s gaze settled upon the abbott. “Those men brought weapons into a sanctuary of God.”

Bowing his head, eyes closed as if in prayer, Porcher quietly murmured, “In God have I put my trust. I will not be afraid what man can do unto me.” Lifting his head back up he noted Brother Philippe’s thoughtful expression. “Why don’t you and I make sure Brother Tomas doesn’t prepare anything fancy for our meal today.” Heading for the kitchen he glanced sideways at the other man. “No reason to make our guests suspicious.”

Trailing behind the abbott, Philippe thought that a fine idea.

++++

_Luc’s room_

“So far so good.” Sitting crossed legged upon his bed, Luc glanced over at d’Artagnan, the latter was sitting upon a chair by a small desk. “Cardinal Richelieu’s disguise must be working.”

“For how long that remains to be seen.” Not knowing when his papas and the other Musketeers had left the Garrison, d’Artagnan had no idea when they would arrive. It well may end up that everyone here would have to take matters into their own hands. “You don’t think those items we borrowed from the forge would be discovered easily?”

Grinning cockily, Luc shook his head. “I put them in an empty wine cask. So I sincerely doubt it.”

When the door opened, interrupting the two boys, they noted Marie coming in carrying Alex. Carl wasn’t far behind her, still holding Minette tight in his arms.

Placing Alex on d'Artagnan's lap, Marie sweetly giggled. "Poor Alex is tired from being chased around."

Feeling Alex butting her head against his hand, d'Artagnan rewarded the affectionate response. Gliding his long fingers through her silky fur, Alex purred. "Chased?"

"Gabby and Anna," supplied Carl.

Eyeing the white cloud of fluff resting contently in the petit garcon's hold, d'Artagnan didn't fully trust Minette's peaceful calm. "If the Red Guards could see her now they wouldn't believe it." He wondered when her devilish horns would begin to protrude. D'Artagnan hoped when it happened he wouldn't be the recipient of Minette's wrath.

"Why?" Wide-eyed, Carl innocently asked.

"She's been known to terrorize them." Smirking, d'Artagnan winked at the child. "Red or Blue for that matter."

"Minette likes me." Feeling proud of that fact, Carl beamed a megawatt smile at the Gascon.

As everyone chattered away, Dani was the next to make an appearance. "Those men have been nosing around the monastery." Whispering to the two older boys, she told them her concerns.

Exchanging a troubled look with first Luc, then Dani, d'Artagnan stood up and gave Alex back to Marie. He, along with the older two, understood what would happen if those maladrins found the cardinal in residence.

"I'll go find His Eminence and warn him to be extra vigilant." With a pat to Alex's head, d'Artagnan left the room. In his rush to get to the cardinal, he practically knocked Abbott Porcher off his feet. "My sincerest apologies, Abbott." Lowering his voice, d'Artagnan explained what Dani had observed.

Laying a hand upon the lad's arm Porcher leaned forward, speaking softly. "They already have their suspicions to work upon." The next few minutes where spent telling the boy about the visit from one of Dauery's men.

"Perhaps if it comes down to a fight the one you spoke with would possibly be of aid to us," d'Artagnan hopefully suggested. "Did he give you his name?"

"Non but I could describe him to you." With no one about to disturb them, Porcher continued. "He's tall... on the thin side... black hair down to his shoulders like yours."

"And a goatee like the cardinal," d'Artagnan finished. "I've seen him. Most of the time he appeared worried whenever I spotted him around."

"I believe that one doesn't enjoy what he does." Spreading his hands apart, Porcher sighed. "Either this is the life he'd always known or tis the only way for him to provide for his family."

"Either way he could turn out to be our wild card." Noting the abbott gazing at him curiously, d'Artagnan chuckled. "Papa Porthos loves a good game of cards. He's rubbed off on me."

With an understanding nod of his head, Porcher smiled back at the young Gascon.

Knowing that the abbott was trying very hard to curtail his worry d'Artagnan didn't want to add to that. Still he asked, "The cardinal isn't aware yet?"

Shaking his head Porcher's lips tightened fractionally. "I was on my way to do so now."

"That's where I was headed in the first place so I'll go." With the abbott's nod of acceptance, d'Artagnan took off again.

++++

_Dauery's room_

"No one looks or acts out of place." Throwing his hands up in the air, Dauery was disgusted. "Royals have snooty dispositions. They're nothing but pampered fops, thinking they are our betters. So far nobody's stood out."

"If Cardinal Richelieu were here," Leonce said, "he would easily blend in with the friars making it hard for us to pick him out."

"Agreed," snapped Dauery. "It doesn't help that none of us would recognize His Eminence even if he were staring us right in the face."

Etienne rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I've only seen King Louis from a distance once during one of his dedication ceremonies. So that isn't of much help."

"Have you ever seen the cardinal, Dauery?" Leonce curiously asked.

"Non," Dauery huffed. "I only know that the man's supposed to be above average height, graying hair, has a mustache and a goatee."

"That description fits any number of friars here." As frustrated as his boss, Etienne didn't know how they'd go about flushing out their potential hostage.

"Where's Tasse by the way?" Looking at his men for an answer Dauery slammed his hand hard against the bedpost, making the others jump.

"Last I saw he was outside with some of the rest of our men," offered Cote.

"Might as well join him," Dauery angrily muttered. "Not getting anywhere doing nothing here."

Filing out behind their unhappy leader, Leonce, Etienne and Cote tread very carefully.

++++

Just when Dauery and part of his gang passed through the halls, a strange occurrence took place. They watched a group of four friars bow slightly, stepping aside, for another man. The latter barely acknowledged them, as if he were trying not to draw attention to himself. Not having been born yesterday, Dauery's eyes narrowed. Staring hard at the friar, noting that the man appeared to fit the description of what Richelieu was supposed to look like, he acted on instinct. " _Cardinal_ , may I have a word?"

Whipping his head around to see where that voice came from, Richelieu cursed himself. He just gave himself away, judging by the pleased expression crossing the maladrin's features.

Sauntering up to His Eminence, Dauery's face was wreathed in smiles. Rubbing his hands together, he could have shouted for glee. This was like having a birthday and Christmas all rolled up into one for him. "The Gods must truly be smiling on me today, _Cardinal_ ," Dauery drawled. "Oh lest I forget." He then mockingly bowed before Richelieu. "Must observe formalities. Mustn't we, eh?" Silence met his question. "Cat got your tongue? Or is it simply you have taken an instant dislike to me already, mmmmm?" Still not a word dropped from the older man's mouth. Turning to his men Dauery gave them an order. "Take him to my room and tie him up while I think upon what to ask for ransom."

"Dauery?" Coming upon his boss, just as he came back from taking care of business outside, Jean-Denis couldn't help but see how pleased Dauery appeared.

"What did you need me for?" Thinking about all the money he could rake in for the cardinal, Dauery's mind wasn't on anything else for the moment.

"Wanted to let you know that we've taken care of all those guards for you."

"Did you have to kill any of them?" Though he could have cared less for the loss of life, Dauery needed to know if his men had buried the bodies deep enough not to be found.

"Non." Chuckling, Jean-Denis boasted, "Some put up a good fight but since most of them were split up it made it easier to overpower the guards with our numbers being the stronger."

"Music to my ears." A bark of harsh laughter escaped him. Relishing his victory, twice over, Dauery concentrated on the ransom he would ask for. It would be a lucrative undertaking. One which would set him up for life.

++++

_Dauery's room again_

Sitting upon a chair, arms tied together in front, same for his legs, Richelieu was still silently berating himself for his slip-up. The rough looking individual guarding him did not seem someone he could bargain with. The man's surly appearance spoke of a hard life lived. He had the feeling that this one would shoot first and ask questions later. Just his luck. Trying to calm his swirling emotions, he murmured a prayer.

"What's that you're mumbling about?" grouched Eric, who was sitting upon the edge of a desk eyeing the cardinal with pure disdain.

"Nothing you'd be interested in," Richelieu retorted.

"Humor me," Eric shot back, tossing a poignard back and forth in his hands menacingly.

"The Lord is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer, my God, my stronghold in whom I take refuge, my shield, the glory of my salvation, and my high tower." Rolling his eyes, upon the maladrin's distaste for the psalm, Richlieu wasn't in the least surprised at the man's reaction.

"Sorry I asked." Religion wasn't for the likes of Eric, never had been.

"The men who abandon themselves to the passions of this miserable life, are compared in Scripture to beasts." Not knowing why he had uttered those words to his captor, Richelieu then became concerned that he may have goaded the voleur into making a rash move against him. Instead he was surprised when the maladrin began laughing instead.

"Don't waste your breath on me, Cardinal." Still laughing, Eric gazed upon His Eminence, with something akin to pity in his eyes. "Arguments about Scripture achieve nothing but a stomachache and a headache. I should know." Shrugging one shoulder, Eric grimaced. "My papa was a man of the cloth. So I've had enough fire and brimstone religion to last me more than one lifetime."

"I am sorry to hear that," Richelieu quietly said. For the moment, he couldn't come up with a reasonable argument that would make the other man change his mind. So he stayed silent.

"Yeah, I bet you are." Snickering, Eric continued playing with his very sharp poignard.

++++

_Notes:_

_Voleurs_ – thieves  
_Maladrins_ – brigands  
_Mon fils_ – my son  
_Petite fille_ – little girl  
_Petit garcon_ \- little boy

I’m sure everyone spotted what Philippe said to the abbott about _God being good with a sword_. Even though I recently used it during the chapters where d'Art helped rescue Porthos from execution, I just had to use that line again here because I felt it fit.

 _Quote: “In god have I put my trust. I will not be afraid what man can do unto me.”_ – from Psalm 56:11.

 _Quote: "The Lord is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer, my God, my stronghold in whom I take refuge, my shield, the glory of my salvation, and my high tower."_ \- from Psalm 18:2

 _Quote: "The men who abandon themselves to the passions of this miserable life, are compared in Scripture to beasts."_ \- from Peter Abelard (1079 – 21 April 1142) was a medieval French scholastic philosopher, theologian, and preeminent logician. The Chambers Biographical Dictionary describes him as "the keenest thinker and boldest theologian of the 12th Century".

 _Quote: "Arguments about Scripture achieve nothing but a stomachache and a headache. I should know."_ \- from Tertullian. Full name Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus, c. 155 – c. 240 AD, was a prolific early Christian author from Carthage in the Roman province of Africa. Of Berber origin, he was the first Christian author to produce an extensive corpus of Latin Christian literature. He also was an early Christian apologist and a polemicist against heresy. Tertullian has been called "the father of Latin Christianity" and "the founder of Western theology."


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same place, day and time where we last were_

Once more on his way, d'Artagnan went to seek out His Eminence. Thinking it more prudent to check first the room the cardinal had been given it was there he headed. Before he reached his destination suddenly he was pulled into another room, empty except for one man. Instantly reaching for his rapier he stayed his hand upon recognizing the individual.

"They've taken Richelieu prisoner," Tasse blurted out. "I immediately went looking for you as soon as I was told."

"Where are they holding him?" This was bad, so very bad. It made d'Artagnan's heart drop right down to the soles of his feet.

"They tied him up in his own room with one guard." Swiping a hand across his forehead, wiping the signs of stress away, Tasse closely studied the boy.

"Why should I believe you?" Knowing this was the man who had warned Abbott Porcher, d'Artagnan still wanted to hear it from the voleur's own lips.

"I don't believe in what Dauery's doing. Tis wrong on so many levels." Being honest with the lad was the only thing Tasse could do. Knowing that the monastery was filled with holy men that wouldn't defend themselves against Dauery, and with kids here as well, Tasse felt he'd burn in hell if the worst were to happen. Though he might be headed in that direction anyway for his many misdeeds.

"Good enough," d'Artagnan murmured. Noting the other man blink in surprise at d'Artagnan's easy capitulation, he smiled. "If you help us I promise the cardinal will let you go free. I'll make sure of it."

The boy couldn't make promises like that, or so Tasse thought. Then again he found out that the lad had arrived here with Richelieu. Perhaps the Gascon was somehow related to the cardinal, for the youth sounded confident in making such an outlandish promise without even speaking with His Eminence. Tasse didn't know but there was something in the youngster's eyes that told him the child spoke the truth. Holding out his hand, he introduced himself. "The name's Tasse."

Taking the proffered hand into his own, giving it a firm shake, d'Artagnan had a serious look upon his face. "D'Artagnan." Snapping his fingers as a thought hit him, he had an idea. "I've got to leave for a few minutes to get someone and then I'm for the cardinal's room." He knew Tasse was worried, extremely so, but so were the rest of them. "Wait here for me. I won't be long."

++++

_Luc's room_

Bursting into Luc's room, d'Artagnan startled the others still within. No time to talk, he looked for the one he needed. Holding his breath, d'Artagnan went over to where Carl sat upon the bed. Plucking Minette from the petit's arms, d'Artagnan held the cat up in the air looking straight into her expressive eyes. "If you promise not to make a fuss or maul me I need your help in rescuing your master." For once Minette was docile in his hold, her steady gaze never left his own. It appeared to d'Artagnan that she had totally understood the urgency laced in his voice.

"What's gone wrong?" Luc demanded.

Shooting his friend an odd look d'Artagnan shot back, "What makes you think something has?" He didn't know why he said that. Thinking back upon his papas banter, especially between papa Aramis and papa Porthos, some imp in d'Artagnan had just took hold.

"What hasn't?"," Luc countered huffing, adding a long eye roll.

Guessing this really wasn't the time to tease anyone, d'Artagnan briefly explained what he had learned and what he planned to do about it. "I need you to warn Abbott Porcher and the friars about this but to not worry as I will have help in freeing Cardinal Richelieu. Meantime have them come up with an idea to fool Dauery and his gang so that you then could lead them to the escape duct."

"I'll get our stuff out from the cask too," Luc added. It was a lot to take in but he felt they were all up to the challenge.

"We can't afford nor hope to wait for the Musketeers to arrive now that this happened." Worry upon worry made d'Artagnan chew on his bottom lip until it bled. "We shall assume the royal guards have been captured and rendered useless. I haven't seen nor heard from Leon or any of them in the last twenty four hours."

"You're right, d'Art." Walking up to the younger boy, Dani placed a hand upon the Gascon's arm. "None of them have been around to check on His Eminence. I had wondered about that," she frowned. Hanging her head down, her long auburn hair covering half her face, she quietly added, "Earlier I overheard something." Feeling a finger tip her chin up Dani's eyes locked onto that of d'Artagnan's, easing her nervousness. "A few of our _guests_ were talking about having taken care of the _capes_. Not understanding what they spoke of I didn't consider any of it of import." Sorrowful hazel eyes stared into forgiving brown ones. "But now that you mentioned the soldiers it made sense."

"No matter, Dani, you weren't to know that tis a term meant for both Musketeers and Red Guards." Never would d'Artagnan have wanted any of the children to feel guilty for something they had no control over. This made him all the more determined in his rescue of the cardinal and to get everyone away safely.

Standing in-between Dani and d'Artagnan, Luc's eyes flashed with a determination to match the young Gascon's. Holding out his right hand palm down, conviction in his words, he said, " _All For One..._ "

As each of the youngsters laid their hands one on top of the other, clear down to petite Marie, they spoke in unison. " _And One for All!_ "

++++

_A short time later_

Having found Brother Philippe and Brother Marcus, Luc took them aside to tell them everything he knew so far. When he explained that they would have to come up with a plan to fool the maladrins until Luc came back to lead them out of the monastery, Brother Philippe frowned down at him.

"You have a way to _sneak_ out of the monastery?" Folding his arms, a stern look upon his face, Philippe was not a happy friar. Now he understood how the children disappeared nearly every time they were scheduled for their lessons.

"You want to speak upon that _NOW_?" Luc emphasized the last word, watching the friar's eyebrows climb ever higher.

A calming pat upon Philippe's shoulder, from Brother Marcus, made him realize their situation was a dire one and he should speak upon such things at a more convenient time. Remaining silent, he watched Luc run off.

Gathering most of their fellow brothers together, Brother Philippe and Brother Marcus ushered the men into the chapel. Putting their heads together, they devised a unique way to trick the voleurs. It would, they were sure, anger the canailles greatly but afford them time to get away.

++++

_An hour later_

Leonce had gone to check the chapel, since he couldn't find the friars about. He changed his mind about going inside, when he heard chanting coming from within. Knowing that the holy men would be at prayers for a time, Leonce left them in peace.

++++

_Cardinal Richelieu's room_

With Tasse knocking upon the door, d'Artagnan placed Minette upon the ground. Stepping off to one side, so as not to be seen, he watched the door cautiously open a crack. It was just enough for Minette to squeeze through. Glancing at Tasse's bemused expression, d'Artagnan held back a shout of laughter. For both of them could hear Her Highness snarling and hissing in anger. It was followed shortly by shouts of pain, which had been music to d'Artagnan's ears.

Rushing past the open door, it was a most comical sight to behold. The voleur laid flat on his back with Minette on top of the man's chest trying to scratch the maladrin's eyes out. While Tasse maintained a firm grip upon their victim's legs d'Artagnan dropped to his knees, rapier drawn. Knocking the canaille out with a solid thump to the man's temple using the hilt of his sword, d'Artagnan caught the cardinal's look of astonishment. Going directly over to His Eminence's side he made fast work of the ropes to free him.

"I gather you learned that maneuver from Athos," Richelieu dryly said, albeit with a touch of humor in his voice.

"Non," d'Artagnan grinned cheekily. "Papa Porthos." Handing over Minette into the cardinal's safe keeping, he helped Tasse tie up the maladrin.

Thinking upon having a word later with Porthos on what types of things not to be teaching the young Gascon, Richelieu's eyes settled upon the man that had helped the lad. "I've seen you with your friends. Why are you helping us?" He registered remorse in the guilt ridden eyes turned upon him.

"I've already told the lad here that I don't think any of this is right." Turning his head away from the burning gaze of the cardinal, Tasse swallowed hard. "I even tried to steer Dauery clear of the monastery once I knew it was here but couldn't sway him."

Whispering in Cardinal Richelieu's ear, d'Artagnan told him what he promised Tasse.

One eyebrow quirked upward. "Without asking me?"

Spreading his arms apart, d'Artagnan gave His Eminence the _puppy_ look he was known for. Usually it worked upon most anyone he met and d'Artagnan knew for a fact that women became a pile of goo when he used it. _Goo_ being papa Aramis' term for it. _Silly fools_ had been papa Athos' description. Papa Porthos just laughed. "Tasse was the one that warned the abbott about Dauery in the first place and he warned me that you had been captured. I didn't think you'd mind returning the favor and not make a prisoner out of him."

Releasing a sigh Richelieu gave a simple nod of his head, not only to the boy but to Tasse. "Now what do you suggest we do, d'Art?" The youth appeared to have a good handle upon things. Richelieu had never found it hard to put his trust in the lad. Today wasn't any different.

"Follow me, My Lord." Peeking out, making sure the coast was clear, d'Artagan led the way down the corridor.

++++

_Wine cellar_

Removing their stash of tools from the wine cask, Luc passed the sacks onto Dani. They had to explain to Gabby and Ana what was happening, because they were so short on numbers and needed all the help they could get. Besides those two were old enough, at nine and ten years of age, to understand the trouble they were all in. It was Carl and Marie that were kept in the dark, still thinking this was going to be an elaborate game of hide and seek. Realizing that it was simply a matter of time when Luc would have to let them in on it as well, he didn't what to frighten them as yet.

"Dani, I shall be back with the friars shortly." With a gentle squeeze to her shoulder Luc made his way back upstairs.

++++

With d'Artagnan leading the way, Richelieu placed a hand upon the lad's shoulder. "What of Vincent?"

Not sure if the abbott was with the other friars at prayer, d'Artagnan understood the cardinal's concern. Carefully sneaking a look inside a room they passed by, noting it was empty, he turned to the two men. "Stay hidden inside here the both of you. I'll be right back." Making sure the door closed securely behind them he quietly padded his way down another hall. Providence must have been shining down upon d'Artagnan, as he discovered Abbott Porcher's office not far from where he had just left the cardinal and Tasse. As quietly as he could, d'Artagnan tapped upon the wooden door.

Opening his door, finding young d'Artagnan standing there, Porcher stared at the hand tugging on the sleeve of his robe. When the lad placed a finger at his own lips, Porcher didn't say a word just silently followed the child down the hall. When they stopped in front of one of the rooms he was confused as to what the lad was up to, until the door opened revealing Armand clutching Minette to his chest. Staring into his old friend's eyes quizzically, a silent exchange took place between them. If Armand was willing to follow the boy, who was he to put up a bother. Quietly the three men, plus Minette, let the young Gascon lead the way.

++++

It was getting to be late in the day and Etienne was surprised the friars were still in the chapel. Quietly he opened the door. All the pews were filled with hooded figures kneeling in prayer. Something was off, he thought as the holy men were conspicuously silent. Going over to them he pushed one in the back. The cassock fell away revealing nothing there but a statue of Christ and prayer cushions. Quickly Etienne did the same with all the others, coming up with the same results. Violently swearing, he raced out of the chapel.

++++

_Main hall_

While Etienne informed a furious Dauery, Eric staggered into the hall with a hand to his aching temple. "Cardinal Richelieu's gone." Flinching from the terrible rage his boss turned upon him, Eric stepped back a few paces. He felt awful. Not because he let Dauery down. Non. His head was killing him. Not to mention where he had worked the ropes free, from his wrists and ankles, continued to bleed.

" _THE FRIARS HAVE DISAPPEARED!_ " Dauery roared. " _NOW! NOW! YOU TELL ME THAT RICHELIEU'S GONE TOO!_ "

'And that's not all, boss!" Skidding to a halt, Cote was out of breath. "I can't find any of the orphans either."

"We've been played!" spat Dauery. "By a bunch of monks and a pack of kids! Taking a deep breath he growled, " _FIND THEM ALL!_ "

++++

_Wine cellar again_

The four maladrins, that had been poking around in the cellar, were now face down unconscious. D'Artagnan, Luc, Tasse, along with Cardinal Richelieu, had made use of the hammers from the forge. All of them had taken careful aim, throwing their weapons at the voleur's heads. Knocking them out instantly they watched the men fall limply to the ground. Quickly taking stock of what they had, using pieces of cord or rope, they kept the canailles on their stomachs. Pulling their captive's arms behind their backs, they trussed them up. After doing the same to the men's legs, they tied rags over their mouths gagging them.

D'Artagnan stroked Alex's back, calming her down. He was proud of her as she proved the distraction they needed, in bringing those four voleurs down. Having let her loose, Alex had begun to yowl in anger, hissing at the maladrins, catching their attention easily. From that point on it had been a simple job to take care of them. Placing a kiss upon the top of her orange head, d'Artagnan handed her back over into Marie's care. Facing everyone, d'Artagnan announced, "The light is gone. We need to make our move now." Nodding to Dani, he had given her a job which she, Ana and Gabby had finished. They had worked hard tying together all of the rope and cord they could find in the cellar, to make one long line to be used in their escape.

"I had gone above to clear away some of the debris from the escape duct, d'Art," offered Luc with a nervous smile. Looking to the Gascon, Luc passed the rope over to him.

"Luc, gather the younger children together." By mutual agreement d'Artagnan would go topside to help everyone get out, while Dani and Luc made sure Marie and Carl were the first ones up. The two teens would be next. Abbott Porcher, however, felt the cardinal should have been the first one to go. It only took a quelling look from His Eminence to silence the abbott, thus ceasing the argument. Glancing at Luc, d'Artagnan nodded to the sacks with their tools. "Make sure you and Dani have them tied to your waists." He had one like it already tied to his belt. Pulling a face he added, "I'm afraid we don't have the time to struggle with the slack tub."

"It's actually outside in the courtyard ready to be used," Luc said. "Where we're going though we won't be able to take it anyway. Not with what I have in it."

There wasn't anytime to find out what Luc meant by his last remark, d'Artagnan figured he'd question him later. "When I pull on the rope send the first one through." Dragging himself upward, he heard the worried whispers of the friars follow his ascent but he pushed their concerns to the back of his mind. Moments later, d'Artagnan reached the cover. Pushing it up, he peered out into the darkness. From what he could see it appeared all was clear so far. Tugging the rope twice, the escape began.

After the children all finally came up, Cardinal Richelieu and Abbott Porcher followed. Then it had been the friars turn. While this took place Luc made sure, as each one made an appearance, that they then ran for the trees.

The original idea had been for everyone to head for the mountains until help arrived, while they still had the light of day to go by. With the capture of Cardinal Richelieu, plans got pushed forward. Now it was too dark to find the mountain path, so they had to settle for staying hidden in the woods overnight.

Placing both hands on d'Artagnan's slim shoulders, Richelieu gripped them tightly. "Well done."

"Pardon the pun, Your Eminence, but we're not _out of the woods_ yet." Listening to the cardinal's low chuckles, d'Artagnan's lips curled upward. "How long did Captain Treville say it would take for the Musketeers to get here again?"

"Cutting their time in half was mentioned."

"I hope we'll see them sometime in the morn then," d'Artagnan whispered. "In the daylight we'll have a hard time not being seen trying to make for the mountains." The cardinal's breath tickled his neck, as His Eminence tried to bolster d'Artagnan's spirits.

"I asked God, 'Why are you taking me through troubled water?' He replied, 'Because your enemies can't swim.'" That particular scripture always made Richelieu laugh.

"Merci." Feeling another squeeze of his shoulders, having found humor in what the cardinal had just said, d'Artagnan blended in with the night.

++++

_Around nine a.m. next morn_

Having spent an uncomfortable night under the stars, the older men slept fitfully. Sleep caught up to them in the wee hours of the morning, making them get up later than usual. The children had no such problem and had been up much earlier. Trying to wake the others had been a chore but it had to be done. A fine mist surrounded them, the sun as yet not strong enough to dissolve the thin veil. This could work in their favor, as they tried to continue their journey.

Within view of the Ardennes Mountains, Luc eventually lead d'Artagnan, Cardinal Richelieu and Abbott Porcher through parts of the forest until he found the winding path that would take them to the mountain. The rest of the children, and friars, brought up the rear. When Carl and Marie started to run around and off the path, Luc was provoked into speaking harshly to them. "Stay with us! The path gets difficult from here!" Their youngest ones had already forgotten, not questioning, about not playing their favorite game of hide and seek. Which, in this case, had turned out to be a good thing.

Noting the pouts on their very young faces, d'Artagnan knelt down beside the two. "I need you both to behave right now. No time for playing." Smiling, he tapped first Marie's nose and then Carl's. "Besides you both have your own burdens to guard over." Gazing at Minette nestled again in Carl's arms and Alex curled up in Marie's, he gently smiled at them. After this was all over, d'Artagnan felt that both he and the cardinal may have a hard time getting their pets back.

++++

_Back at the monastery_

Now that daylight was burning, Dauery's men continued to search the grounds. Others readied their mounts to check the roads.

"They couldn't have gone far on foot," Cote said, looking back at Jean-Denis and Eric.

"Follow me!" Heading for the barn, Etienne didn't bother looking to see if the others were coming. He knew they would or else there would be hell to pay if they didn't.

++++

Glancing over their shoulders, both Luc and d'Artagnan were unhappy with the slow progress of their escape plan. Aside from their other young friends, and Tasse, the older men were dragging their feet. Cardinal Richelieu was only held back because he had been helping Abbott Porcher over the rough terrain. As for the friars bien they appeared to be abusing their underused muscles, judging by the soft groans they heard.

"We haven't made good time at all." Bumping shoulders with Luc, d'Artagnan noted the glum expression on the other lad's face.

"D'Art, stay here a minute. I'm going to climb up there to see if we're being followed yet." Having pointed to a large boulder, Luc quickly scrambled up to the top. Looking out from his vantage point he could see the maladrins riding towards their position. Madly waving at d'Artagnan, sliding down the boulder, Luc gave his friend the bad news. "They're coming!"

Since they were in the lead, both boys ran back to the others. Hearing the sounds of gunfire, they ducked. Looking around as another shot rang out, d'Artagnan noted one of the friars falling to the ground in a heap. Catching Dani's frightened gaze, with one of his own, she gathered the girls and Carl into her arms when the younger ones began to panic and scream. The cats had jumped out of their safe havens to run around like mad things, adding to the pandemonium.

"Quickly," yelled d'Artagnan, pointing over toward the forest. They had to get off this path now. Ushering the cardinal and abbott into the tree-lined area, d'Artagnan left it up to Tasse to handle the friars. Which left Dani and Luc to take care of their youngest.

Discovering a low bridge, nearly hidden by the brush surrounding it, the children squatted underneath its shelter. Luc and the friars covered them with leaves and more brush to better hide them.

Apparently the friars needed a bit more prodding. Helping Tasse out, d'Artagnan made shooing motions with his hands until the monks got the idea. "Now quickly...hide where you can. _GO!_ " Watching the friars finally scatter into the trees, d'Artagnan turned concerned eyes upon Cardinal Richelieu. This was worse than fighting off that female assassin back in the palace or being kidnapped by slavers, he thought. Gripping his sword, d'Artagnan promised himself that he'd do his level best to not let those voleurs retake His Eminence. Emotions in turmoil, d'Artagnan's last glimpse of the cardinal puzzled him. "Why aren't you hiding?" he hissed when Cardinal Richelieu found his way over to him.

"Because I can't in all good conscience watch you, Luc, and even Tasse, take on those maladrins and not do anything to help." Richelieu's hand went searching for something tucked inside the lining of his cassock.

D'Artagnan's eyes widened upon the sight of the poignard Cardinal Richelieu withdrew from the folds of his robe.

"Before you speak, lad," compelling dark eyes crinkled up in the corners, when Richelieu smiled, "I do know how to use this. If they expect to ransom me they won't try very hard to do me an injury." Winking at d'Artagnan he added, "My advantage."

"If you're sure, Cardinal." Not about to argue with the older man, d'Artagnan had another concern to voice. "In all the chaos that erupted did you happened to see what happened to our cats?" Having no idea where Alex was, nor Her Highness, d'Artagnan had a sort of sick feeling in his stomach.

"I'm sure for now they're better able to take care of themselves than we are, d'Art." With a final pat to the boy's shoulder, Richelieu observed the young Gascon signal to Luc and Tasse. With a nod in his own direction from d'Artagnan, they then fanned out. They kept within calling distance of one another, in case they could lend aid where needed. Crossing himself, sending up a quick prayer for everyone's safety, Richelieu readied for the battle to come.

++++

_Notes:_

_Voleurs_ \- thieves  
_Maladrins_ \- brigands  
_Canailles_ \- scoundrels

 _Quote: "I asked God, 'Why are you taking me through troubled water?' He replied, 'Because your enemies can't swim.'"_ \- from Scripture quotes on Pinterest.com


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some OC deaths occur.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, some time past nine in the morn – same forest area_

Drawing closer the maladrins came through the trees, their horses nervously shying away as if sensing danger in the air. Dismounting, four men with swords drawn began to cautiously search the terrain.

++++

Meanwhile Richelieu muttered another curse under his breath, one he shall ask forgiveness for later when visiting the chapel. Really he shouldn’t have been surprised. He’s found himself uttering them before, when finding out what sort of trouble his young friend d’Artagnan had gotten tangled up in again. Today wasn’t any different, observing the lad doing what came naturally to the Gascon … _something most foolish_. The boy was to have stayed close with the rest of them. Pinching the bridge of his nose, sharing a concerned look with Luc and Tasse, Richelieu could only shrug his shoulders.

++++

Looking about Etienne paused, listening to the rustling of undergrowth nearby. Spotting a figure darting between the trees, glancing over at Eric he gestured _a circle_ to his companion this way they would surround their prey. Watching Eric head off into the trees, Etienne grimly smiled. Finally things were starting to go their way. Stealthily making his way towards where Etienne had last seen movement, he stared down at a fallen tree trunk that was in his way. All was silent around him, until hissing sounds drew his attention away from his goal. Something heavy dropped on top of his head. Sharp claws began raking down the sides of his face. Etienne tried to shake the creature off but not before whatever the animal was had done a good deal of damage. Feeling deep, bloody, gouges it had left fueled his anger. Wanting to lash out at the animal, all he could make out was a blur of bright orange streaking past him. Turned out anyway that he had matters of more import to deal with, when another sound reached Etienne’s ears. Suddenly, from above him again, someone swung down from the same tree to land on top of his body knocking him down to the hardened earth.

Before executing his own mischief, d’Artagnan had located his pet. Keeping her wrapped around his neck while he climbed the tree assured him that Alex wouldn't fall off. Greatly pleased upon how well his minx had performed D'Artagnan noted that his victim was now slightly off-balance, giving him an edge. Rather glad none of his papas were around to see him try to pull off this crazy stunt, he launched himself into the air. His feet connected with the canaille's back, making the enemy eat dirt. Rolling off the maladrin, d'Artagnan ended up in a crouch position. Quickly gaining his feet he grabbed at a thick tree branch near him and struck out at the voleur forcefully, rendering the other man senseless. Not able to savor his victory for long, d’Artagnan twisted himself around upon the sounds of screaming. Horrified, he watched another of Dauery’s gang run one of the monks through in cold blood. Why was that friar not hiding with the others? He didn’t know and it was too late for the poor soul anyway.

Not letting the voleur escape, d’Artagnan clashed swords with the killer. In his anger he got careless, receiving a cut across his sword arm. The pain only increased his fury, for the needless murder of the friar. Thrusting his blade forward, d'Artagnan slashed a wicked cut at the maladrin from left shoulder clear down to the man’s waistline. Lightly dancing away then coming around from behind his opponent, d’Artagnan easily disarmed the gang member. Observing the canaille drop boneless to the ground only left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Holding his rapier to the other man's throat, d’Artagnan found himself on the verge of running the maladrin through. Hesitating, he wondered if he could willingly take another life again.

It had been a poor choice in his decision to take after the friar instead of helping out Etienne. Now Eric found himself in this position but hopefully not for long. Taking advantage of the boy’s indecision, he slowly reached his hand toward his right boot. Pulling out a poignard from it Eric managed to quickly gain his feet. Lunging at the youngster, he realized that he had woefully underestimated the Gascon. The child easily parried his blade until it was Eric that felt the keen edge of the lad’s sword enter his own chest.

Thinking he would become violently ill over what he had done, d’Artagnan wasn’t given time to contemplate upon it for he was urgently needed elsewhere.

++++

Fighting off two more of Dauery’s thugs Luc grabbed the first two things his hands latched upon from the sack at his feet. With enough force behind his throw, he managed to embed one of the chisels in his first attacker’s chest. The howl of pain that accompanied the wound made Luc flinch upon the sound but it didn’t deter him. Quickly following up with a throw of his hammer at the other maladrin, Luc grimaced when it connected with the voleur's skull with a resounding crack.

Running over to the older boy, d'Artagnan's eyes gazed upon Luc's victory. "Hurry, we must remove the pistols from their belts."

Handing over one of the weapons to d'Artagnan, Luc gave his friend a sad smile. "I'm not so sure I want to be a soldier anymore." Feeling the other lad's hand upon his shoulder, he heaved a great sigh.

"Having been raised amongst Musketeers," d'Artagnan's lips pursed, "bien tis all I've ever wanted to become." His eyes searched those of Luc's. "But tis not a life meant for everyone I fear."

"Sometimes when I speak with you, d'Art," Luc's laugh was short, "I find myself wondering which one of us is the elder."

"Age is relative," d'Artagnan said offhand. "Of course papa Athos could be wrong. I think you handled yourself quite well, Luc, considering you've been surrounded by men of peace."

"What say you and I get back to the cardinal and Tasse with these?" Holding up the pistols, Luc grinned. Realizing he had abruptly changed the subject, Luc would ponder upon his own dreams when it was safer.

When the two boys did so, they came upon Cardinal Richelieu dealing with his own troubles.

Moving from side to side between the two voleurs, Richelieu kept his adversaries at bay for the moment. The steel of his poignard caught the rays of the morning sun, so much so that he was able to temporary blind the canailles when either one of them tried to tackle him. Richelieu knew they wouldn't dare hurt him which, as he earlier mentioned to d'Artagnan, was to his advantage.  The maladrins hadn't drawn their weapons, which was a telling factor to him. It may prove the downfall of his enemies.

Circling around the cardinal, Jean-Denis and Cote exchanged wary looks with each other. As both of them advanced on Cardinal Richelieu again, they were attacked from behind by some ferocious animal. Looking over their shoulders their eyes bulged in their sockets upon noting it was a white cat, fur standing on end, ready to attack. The animal appeared very dangerous, standing there hissing at them. Her teeth were bared and sharp claws extended. Before they could react, the feline jumped first on Jean-Denis scraping the skin raw from his backside as she ripped his shirt apart. Then she turned upon Cote. Biting him on his ankle hard enough to leave the wound bloody and the man hobbling around, crying out in agony.

Alex had also been a mini army unto herself, having proved that with her attack upon the velour back in the trees. Remembering how vicious his pet had been brought about another pleased smile to d'Artagnan's face. Observing the cardinal engaging the maladrins, both he and Luc didn't know whether or not to interfere. Making the decision to press forward anyway, d'Artagnan pulled out the pistol from his belt. Noting Luc doing the same they both halted upon His Eminence' words to them.

" _Non, boys!_ _I want you to stay back!_ " Richelieu shouted. _"I want to take care of this myself! Suddenly I'm finding this rather invigorating! Reminding me of my younger days!"_ Laughingly he added, _"Besides, Minette's given me another tactical advantage!"  
_

Both Jean-Denis and Cote thought the cardinal had lost his mind. They couldn't risk injuring the older man. That would only further enrage their boss. Still they were now sporting their own wounds and were not at their best. Jean-Denis dealt with a painful back, while Cote hobbled along on one leg feeling like a peg-legged pirate.

Not sure if it was wise, d'Artagnan and Luc did as ordered. Grabbing the older lad's arm, d'Artagnan pointed over to where Tasse sat upon the ground. Rushing over to him they spotted the injury to the man's left arm. Tasse was in a lot of pain but at least he hadn't lost consciousness.

Giving the lads a lopsided grin, Tasse quipped. "I zigged when I should have zagged."

"That sounded an awful lot like what papa Aramis says all the time," d'Artagnan jested, earning a hearty laugh from Tasse despite the man's wound.

Laughing wasn't the smartest thing to have done, with a ball lodged in his arm. Closing his eyes against the sharp pain, and blood loss, Tasse opened them up again to stare at the young Gascon and Luc. Not wanting to be a burden he tried to stand up but found himself being pushed back down by the youngsters.

Tearing off a piece of his tunic, Luc began wiping away the blood.

"If I could be sure there were no more maladrins floating around, I'd remove that ball for you." On his knees beside Tasse, d'Artagnan closely inspected the injured limb. "I've been allowed to help papa Aramis sometimes, depending upon the wound."

"If Luc here binds it properly," Tasse breathed through his nose against another jolt of pain, "I could hold on for awhile longer."

When the sounds of a triumphant victory were heard, d'Artagnan's head whipped around. It appeared the cardinal was correct in not needing their aid. For the two voleurs were writhing upon the grass suffering new injuries on top of what Minette had already given them. When His Eminence joined them, d'Artagnan couldn't contain himself. "Your misspent youth finally caught up with you I see."

"Cheeky brat," Richelieu teased back. Noting the lad's dancing eyes, he grinned. "It will be our secret." Catching sight of Tasse, his mirth instantly fled.

Before Cardinal Richelieu could voice his concern Tasse held up a hand, weakly waving it in the air. "I'll live."

"D'Art, I think that was all of them." Casting his eyes over the area, Luc hadn't seen nor heard anymore maladrins about.

"Then since you and I now are proud owners of a pistol each I'd say we should go check the bridge where we left Dani, Marie and Carl." Glancing at the cardinal, d'Artagnan added for His Eminence' benefit, "We'll then try to locate where the friars went."

But before Luc and d'Artagnan left they decided to move Tasse, with the aid of Cardinal Richelieu, into the protective cover of trees.

"Cardinal, I think you should stay with him. If we've missed a maladrin you could use Tasse's pistol. We'll try not to be overlong." When His Eminence snorted indelicately holding up his poignard to d'Artagnan, it had been to remind him that the older man could well hold his own. Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan followed Luc back into the forest.

++++

_Hours later - the Monastery_

Using a spy glass Athos observed the monastary at a distance. The men he noted, walking around the courtyard, were not friars. Not dressed the way they were in ordinary clothing instead of the cassocks monks were known to wear. Turning his troubled gaze to his brothers, Athos' tone was filled with regret. "I believe we have arrived to late."

"What da ya mean sayin' somethin' like that?" Not pleased at his friend's word choices, Porthos glowered at him.

"In that the maladrins have taken over the monastery." Shoving the spy glass into Porthos' large hands Athos watched him use it then pass it over to Aramis.

"How should we proceed?" questioned Aramis after gazing through the spy glass. Worry grew for their son but also for their country if anything were to happen to Cardinal Richelieu.

While drawing up a plan of action, Athos prayed everyone within the monastery was unharmed. D'Artagnan and His Eminence being top on that list.

++++

_Courtyard_

Hearing a shot ring out, Dauery's head snapped up. Glancing toward the gate he watched as one of his men was felled by a musket shot to the gut. Upon a dozen Musketeers riding into the courtyard Dauery raced for the relative safety of the monastery, shouting orders for his men to attack the soldiers while at it.

Engaging the surprised maladrins sword to sword, it was full on war in the courtyard. Pistol fire exchanged with musket fire. Blades clashed against blades. Shouting from both sides rent the air, mixed with screams of pain.

During the fighting, Porthos somehow discovered a wagon off to the side of the monastery. When finding it filled with goods and weapons, Porthos knew that the voleurs had stolen the items and meant to sell them over the border to the Spanish. But that wasn't all he found either. Reaching down Porthos grabbed at his find, like a kid in a candy store. Running over to where Aramis and Athos were catching their breath, grinning hugely, he held out his hands. "Look what I got."

Peering at the grenades Porthos proudly presented to them, both Athos and Aramis nodded their approval.

"Most useful," murmured Athos. "Since you found them," patting his brother's shoulder proudly, he smiled, "you should do the honors."

"Don't mind if'n I do." Observing Porthos take off, Aramis frowned. "Why does he get to have all the fun?"

A stern look passed over Athos' features. "Because I am the one in charge."

" _Pfft!_ " Nose slightly bent out of joint over that Aramis didn't let it take his mind off their main objective. Catching sight of the frightened face of one of their younger recruits, about to be overwhelmed by two maladrins, Aramis raced over to Pierre's side. Engaging the enemy, fighting hard against his opponent, he suddenly twists, hooks the voleur's sword from the man's hand, and lunges. His own blade finding its mark, Aramis set off to lend aid to another comrade.

++++

Lighting up the grenades one by one, Porthos started throwing them left and right at the canailles. The weapons, of course, go off without a hitch, but the loud explosions they created knocked many off of their feet. Which was the whole point of Porthos doing this. Also it had been his hope to cause as many injuries as he could to the maladrins while at it. Unforeseen consequences though meant that even a few of their own Musketeers lost their footing. Some teetered and tottered but held their ground. His other brothers weren't so lucky, finding themselves flat on their stomachs with their hands covering their heads from falling debris. Laughing, completely in his element, Porthos continued his barrage until he used up all the grenades. If anything, this gave the Musketeers a distinct advantage in their fight. The gang members now were slow to gain their feet, becoming easy to overtake. Still there were other voleurs too dumb to surrender. That being the case, Porthos had no choice but to continue the battle through brute strength alone.

++++

Another maladrin engaged Athos. The other man ran at him managing to get off a shot. Ducking, Athos fired back. The enemy then collapsed to the ground, a ball lodged in the man's neck. No sooner had that one gone down when another canaille took the dead man's place. Coming at Athos they clashed swords. Fighting his opponent off, he took a cut high to his right shoulder blade. Shrugging the injury off, with a twist of his lips, Athos taunted his adversary. "So did you choose today to humiliate yourself in public?" His remark did the job, when the voleur charged him. Lashing out with his blade, Athos easily cut the man down.

++++

Breathing hard, Aramis was fighting back to back with Porthos. "Does it seem ... to... you that... we now have... more... Musketeers than what... we... started with?"

"Yeah," Porthos grunted. "Their our guys. The ones that rode out with Cardinal Richelieu and d'Art."

 _"Where the hell were you all this time?"_ Screaming to be heard over the chaos, Aramis glared at the four newcomers.

Having finished their own fights, Leon, Bernard, Michel and Roux joined the senior members. Explaining away their capture and how they finally worked the ropes binding them loose, Leon shared a look with his own men. "We're lucky our skulls are thick."

"Yup," Bernard agreed. "The cardinal's men weren't so lucky though."

"They're still in the barn unconscious," added Michel with a smirk.

"Apparently Red Guards have softer heads." Laughing at his own quip, Roux was pleased when everyone joined in.

++++

Having put an end to another of Dauery's men, Athos headed over to where Cardinal Richelieu's guards now stood with his friends. Having spotted Leon amongst the men, Athos was anxious to know what had happened here. But along the way Athos noted a lone figure slipping past the monastery doors to go inside. Something nagged at him to follow the man. Veering off his path, he too disappeared past the doors.

++++

Feeling a blade laid upon his shoulder, Dauery froze.

 _"Surrender or die!"_ spat Athos. With the mood he was currently in, Athos would run his blade through the maladrin first and ask questions later. That is if his victim survived.

_"Go to hell, Musketeer!"_

"I must already be in hell since you're still standing here," Athos countered.

Whirling around to face the soldier, Dauery's steps faltered upon staring into the icy blue depths of the Musketeer's eyes that pinned him where he stood.

 _"Your name!"_ Barking his order out Athos expected it to be instantly obeyed.

"Dau... Dauery," he stammered.

This was the man mentioned in Treville's note sent by Cardinal Richelieu. Letting his sword graze the canaille's neck, Athos' eyes narrowed. "I thought I had seen the pinnacle of stupid... then I met you."

Dauery surprised himself by standing there letting this Musketeer insult him. But there was something in the man's face that spoke of Dauery meeting an unpleasant end. A very slow and painful death awaited him, if this soldier had anything to say about it. Throwing his sword away, hearing it clatter to the floor, he held his hands up in surrender.

++++

Outside in the courtyard the fighting continued though the maladrin's numbers were dwindling.

With a booted foot pressing down upon the voleur's chest, Porthos loomed large over the prone figure. "I never forget a face," he growled, "but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception."

 _"Porthos!"_ Shouting and waving his friend over, Aramis was excited. _"Quit having fun and come here!"_

Grumbling, Porthos decided not to kill the canaille. Instead he threw a roundhouse punch to the other man's jaw, sending his victim into unconsciousness. Joining Aramis he followed his brother's finger pointing at a bucket. Ah! But it wasn't just any bucket because it wasn't empty. It was what it contained that made it gold to them. "Are ya thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Grinning from ear to ear, Porthos slapped his friend's back. Being the stronger of the two, Porthos lifted the bucket up carrying it over to where more of their own were still fighting.

With a wink at Porthos' larger frame, Aramis did a count. _"One... two... three."_ It was on the last call that Porthos picked the bucket up again pouring  a dark-colored liquid onto the concrete surfaces of the courtyard where a number of voleurs still were.

Fortunately the other soldiers moved out of the way, not sure what the other two Musketeers were up to. When they watched the maladrins lose their footing to bounce off one another in their attempt to stay upright, slipping and then sliding all over the place before falling upon their asses, it had been the most fun any of the Musketeers have had to date.

Leon acknowledged the maneuver with a thumbs up motion toward Aramis and Porthos.

When Athos joined the group, his lips twitched. "An ingenious way to end things."

"Don't know why a bucket of oil was just sittin' outside 'ere." Exchanging curious looks with his brothers, Porthos thanked providence for it anyway.

"Where have you been, Athos?" Removing his chapeau Aramis swiped at the sweat trickling down his forehead.

"I have been busy capturing the ringleader. He is trussed up inside." Responding to the marksman's question with a grim smile, Athos still had other concerns to dwell upon.

"While you were inside were there any signs of d'Art or Richelieu?" Worried beyond belief and wanting to hear good news for a change, Aramis had tried to suppress his growing anxiety but didn't feel he had made a good show if it.

"Not as yet. But when I first walked into the building it was silent as a tomb."

"Athos, Athos," Aramis gently chided. "Tis what a monastery usually sounds like."

Before a proper retort reached his lips Athos noted movement coming from around the corner of the monastery, heading in their direction. Removing his pistol and musket from his weapons belt, it appeared their job was yet not finished.

++++

Spreading out to trap the remaining canailles, Athos fired first. Framed in the arches of the cloisters he tossed his smoking pistol to the ground, hand reaching for the hilt of his rapier.

Porthos stepped out from beside the church his own pistol smoking.

Stepping over the dead bodies of several slain men, Aramis appeared.

Drawing their swords in unison... the inseparables attacked.

++++

_Notes_

_Voleurs_ – thieves  
_Maladrins_ – brigands  
_Canailles_ \- scoundrels

 _Quote: "So did you choose today to humiliate yourself in public?"_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "I must already be in hell since you're still standing here."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "I thought I had seen the pinnacle of stupid... then I met you."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "I never forget a face but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_After the noon hour – Monastery_

Having heard the sounds of explosions from their hiding spots in the woods, d’Artagnan began jumping up and down crowing, _“They’re here! They’re here!”_

Confused, Luc tilted his head studying his youthful friend. Glancing over at the cardinal’s raised brow, he wondered if either one of them would fill him in.

“It would appear our rescue is at hand,” Richelieu offered dryly.

Understanding dawned then. “Dani, the Musketeers have arrived.” Those were probably the happiest words to Luc’s own ears. “Make sure Tasse’s wound is wrapped tightly because I think we’re going home.”

Having figured out that all the maladrin’s after them had either been killed, wounded badly or knocked unconscious, d’Artagnan had removed the ball from Tasse’s left arm. Dani had helped him staunch any blood flow thereafter. He left it to her to re-wrap the man’s arm.

Luc, in the meantime, had been having a hard time keeping the rest of the youngsters in line. Now that the danger had passed, all the children wanted to do was play. With the arrival of the soldiers, Luc expected Ana, Gabby, Carl and Marie to be pleased to be returning back to the monastery.

Listening to noises coming from the brush, Luc’s head twisted around. Noting that it was only d’Artagnan herding along Abbott Porcher and the other friars, he breathed easier. Just for a second, his concern grew upon thinking that it could have been some maladrins that they had missed seeing.

So far though three of the voleurs that were wounded had been tied up against the trees. The two that had died at Luc’s own hand, and the one at d’Artagnan’s, would eventually be brought back to the monastery to be buried. It wasn’t their way to leave the bodies to wrought where they laid. “D’Art, do you think we could get some Musketeers to bring the dead back to the monastery?”

“I don’t know why not,” d’Artagnan swiftly replied, along with a sideways glance at Cardinal Richelieu.

“Armand’s informed me that I have two fellow brothers to now bury.” Bending his head, Vincent murmured a quiet prayer for their souls. “I would like seeing to holding services for them as soon as possible.” Raising his head he shared a grieving look with Armand.

“Since we are now all gathered together,” Richelieu cleared his throat, “let us be on our way. I’m sure the Musketeers must be wondering where all of us had disappeared to.”

Helping Luc and Dani with the younger ones, d’Artagnan made sure Marie and Carl stayed with them. Smiling, when he gave the older pair a quick glance over his shoulder, he noted they were having a hard time containing Ana and Gabby. Eager to be on his way back what d'Artagnan looked forward to most was leaving for Paris and being at home with his famille. 

++++

_The Monastery_

Finished battling the remains of the maladrins, the inseparables collapsed upon some upturned barrels near the barn.

“Dieu merci we don’t look like what we’ve been through.” Slumping forward, Aramis swiped at his face. His hand came away bloody, though it wasn’t his own. Also his fingertips were blackened from the oil that had covered some of the maladrin’s bodies that they had tied up. Pulling a face, Aramis looked for something to wipe his hands with. Settling for swiping them down Porthos' doublet instead, he had to duck from the large hand that took a shot at his head.

"What's the big idea?" Not appreciating Aramis using his doublet for a towel, especially while Porthos was still wearing it, he muttered some creative curses when he missed hitting his friend.

"Just wanted clean hands." This time Aramis was wise enough not to touch his brother's clothes. Glancing at Athos, he hesitated at the glower upon his eldest friend's face.

"Attempt that with me and count on losing some of your fingers." A raised brow, a quirk of the lips, and Athos made his point. When one of the younger recruits waved at him, he got up and strode over.

"Sir, I spotted a large group of people coming our way."

Whipping out his spy glass from his weapons belt, Athos went to the gate. A broad grin spread over his face, when he recognized his son and Cardinal Richelieu amongst the group. " _ARAMIS! PORTHOS! OUR BOY IS COMING!"_

Like a fire had been lit underneath them Aramis and Porthos got up like a shot, racing to the gates to join their friend.

"My prayers were heard," whispered Aramis. Feeling a nudge to his side, he glanced at Porthos. "What? It never hurts to pray, mon frere."

"Didn't say it did." Grinning, Porthos spoke into the marksman's ear. "Did some of my own on the way up 'ere."

Ordering a few of the soldiers to open the gates wider Athos ran out to meet them, his brothers hot on his heels.

Wanting nothing more but to be wrapped safely in his papa's arms, d'Artagnan wanted to act like an adult. So carrying petite Marie in his arms he waited for his famille to come closer.

Coming to a halt in front of the lad, Athos' keen eyes didn't miss a thing. Though d'Artagnan appeared none the worse for wear, he could not help but see the blood-tinged wrappings around the lad's sword arm. "It would seem you have a knack for getting yourself in trouble, child."

"Are you surprised, papa?" A most innocent looking expression graced d'Artagnan's young features.

"I suppose not," Athos dryly remarked. Waiting for his son to put the petite fille down, he then hugged d'Artagnan tightly to his chest. Carding his fingers through the dark locks, he placed a kiss to the side of the lad's head. "I swear you will be the death of us yet."

Pulling away, d'Artagnan blushed fiery red. "Not my fault that maladrins decided to seek out the monastery as their resting spot."

"After what 'appened," Porthos pointed over his shoulder toward the monastery, "it ended up becomin' a permanent _restin' place_ for a good lot of 'em." Then he took his turn, nearly crushing the whelp, hugging d'Artagnan. Passing him off to Aramis to do the very same thing, Porthos laughed at the faces his son made.

"Your Eminence," Athos dipped his head. "Tis very good to see you looking well."

"Tis very good to be seen." Looking past Athos, Richelieu wasn't close enough yet to see the courtyard. "Everything settled then?"

"Qui." Noting the monks wearily trudging toward the gates, Athos glanced questioningly at the cardinal. "Any casualties?"

"We lost a couple of friars which you'll need to send some men back to retrieve their bodies," Richelieu said. "Also the voleurs we left alive need collecting along with several of their own dead."

"Understood. I will attend to that as soon as we get all of you back inside the monastery." Observing d'Artagnan with the children, Athos was pleased at how well they all seemed to get along. But it was watching the exchange taking place between the petite fille and Porthos that Athos truly began to relax.

Marie walked nervously up to Porthos. She stopped and looked way, way up into his dark-skinned face. Turning to d'Artagnan she motioned for him to bend down, whispering in his ear.

Chuckling, d'Artagnan stared at his papa. "Marie wants to know if you're a giant."

Staring down into the poppet's wide eyes, Porthos gently growled, "I won't eat you. I'm not very hungry yet." When the petite held out her arms for him to pick her up, he obliged. Kissing his cheek, laying her head trustingly upon his shoulder, Porthos felt his eyes tearing up.

"Guess she likes you." Winking at Porthos, Aramis went ahead to tell his brother-in-arms that their lost lambs have come home.

Passing back through the gates, Luc was never so happy as to see the sight of the monastery come into view. Noting parts of the courtyard were blackened, he grinned. "Someone made use of the slack tub filled with oil I left outside."

"That was you're idea?" Both hands on his hips Aramis tilted his head back, letting loose a loud shout of laughter. "It was brilliant if somewhat messy." Holding up his still black-tipped fingers, wriggling them in the air, he then slapped the older boy on the back.

"Where's Dauery?" With a hand upon Athos' shoulder, stopping the Musketeer's momentum, Richelieu decided not to make another move until he knew what had happened to that diable.

"Caught him slipping inside the monastery," Athos shrugged. "It was fairly easy after that. Dealing with cowards usually is."

"Is he alive?" Not really caring whether the voleur was or not Richelieu felt he had the right to know, all things considered.

"Oh very much so." Athos nodded, lips twisting wryly. "Although he is is a bit tied up at the moment." Smirking, he added, "Just in case Dauery got the bright idea in his head to leave us."

"I know very well where that maladrin's travels are going to take him, Athos." Grimly smiling Richelieu said, "Straight to the gallows and hell. That's if even le diable wants the canaille."

The cardinal's words stayed with Athos as he went to check on their prisoners. Needless to say that once they returned home King Louis was going to have a fit. Correction... His Majesty had already thrown a royal fit, when Treville informed him what was happening here. The streets of Paris couldn't come to soon for Athos.

++++

Helping remove the dead voleurs from the courtyard, Aramis caught d'Artagnan's eye. "You know the older you get the more you appreciate being at home doing nothing."

"You'd be bored to tears, papa." Chuckling, d'Artagnan butted his shoulder against Luc's. The older youth appeared to also find papa Aramis' words amusing, judging by the wide grin Luc wore.

"You'll 'ave ta tell us the story behind 'ow all of ya got out of the monastery, d'Art." Very curious indeed upon how they managed it, Porthos crossed his arms waiting.

After d'Artagnan, with Luc's help, explained everything, both Porthos' eyebrows shot up. "My kid is just as weird and twisted as I am." Astonishment and admiration at their ingenuity filled him. His feelings were reflected in the faces of both Athos and Aramis as well. "I'm not sure if'n I should be proud or scared." His remark earned Porthos loud gaffaws, from most of the Musketeers within hearing distance.

Luc dumbly stared at the swarthy-skinned Musketeer then back at d'Artagnan. When the latter simply shrugged his shoulders, Luc figured this was something the young Gascon was used to hearing.

++++

"Le diable's work was nearly done here today." Staring upon the carnage surrounding him, Armand glanced over at Vincent. "But God was on our side."

"Mon ami," Vincent was slow to smile, "the most powerful weapon to conquer le diable is humility. As he does not know at all how to employ it, neither does he know how to defend himself from it."

"Well said." Wtih an _after you_ wave of his hand, Armand waited for his old friend to enter the monastery before him.

++++

While giving orders to his men, Athos was cut off mid-sentence by the marksman. Glowering at his younger brother, one brow rose extremely high. "I'm sorry, did the middle of my sentence interrupt the beginning of yours?"

A retort immediately sprung to Aramis' lips yet nothing came out. Not wanting to step further upon Athos' toes, he decided to err on the side of caution and kept quiet. 

++++

_About an hour later_

Averting this latest danger was God's will, as far as Richelieu was concerned. With the Musketeers now here, he decided to cut his visit short. Dauery, and the few of his gang left alive, remained in the custody of Athos' men. They would be heavily guarded upon their return to Paris.

Watching d'Artagnan saying his goodbyes to the children tugged at Richelieu's heart. He knew the boy had grown rather attached to them, especially to Marie. Even Alex appeared uneasy when d'Artagnan tried to remove his pet from the petite fille. It was as if Alex knew they were parting. Already having his own troubles getting Minette to leave petit Carl's arms, Richelieu understood the youngster's problem with Alex.

"Promise to write us, d'Art." Having a great liking for the lad, Luc came to realize how much he would miss him.

"Of course and I expect the same from everyone here as well." Hugging each new friend in turn, d'Artagnan made a promise to himself that he wouldn't cry, knowing he would miss them very much. "Perhaps Abbott Porcher would take all of you along when he next visits the cardinal." A pause during the two clergymen's conversation told d'Artagnan that they had heard his words. He had spoken them loud enough, hoping the abbott had heard him.

Receiving a positive nod from the abbott, d'Artagnan's heart lightened. With a kiss to Marie's forehead relief filled him when Alex finally jumped into his arms.

 _"D'Art, ready?"_ shouted Porthos.

It was then that Marie bolted for the large soldier.

Amused at the speed with which the petite fille ran, Porthos leaned down to be on her level. When Marie grabbed him around the neck to give him a hug, he carefully picked her up. Hugging Marie back he gently set her back down. Porthos was deeply touched by the child's gesture.

Before entering the carriage, d'Artagnan turned one last time to speak with Luc. "Tell me truly how much trouble are you and the children going to be in with Brother Philippe?"

"Not sure." Giving the lad a lopsided grin, Luc shook his head. "That drainage duct aided our escape."

"It also aided all of you in _escaping_ your lessons. Tis why I asked." D'Artagnan's shared amusement with the older youth attracted the attention of his papas, all of whom had been observing them.

++++

"I believe our pup left out a great deal when he explained how they got away from the monastery." Observing the two young people together Athos knew that sometime later he would be questioning his son further, more than likely once they returned home.

++++

Inside the carriage, with Alex settled beside him, d'Artagnan was surprised when papa Athos' head appeared at the window.

"We have all discussed that you are not to go anywhere without one of us from now on." Noting the standard eyeroll, accompanied by the expected dramatic sigh, Athos' lips quirked.

"Papa, are the cardinal's Red Guards well?" Trying to steer the subject in another direction, d'Artagnan realized that subtly was something he'd have to work on.

"Simon and Yvain have complained of lingering headaches," Athos replied. "Whereas Abel and Tristan appear to have no lasting after effects." Knowing his son side-stepped the issue, Athos realized that at some point they would be having this discussion again.

"I'm glad." With Cardinal Richelieu now entering the carriage, d'Artagnan said nothing more for the time being.

"Athos, your men have the wagon with the stolen merchandise and weapons secure?" Waiting for an answer, Richelieu drummed fingertips upon his Bible.

"As secure as the voleurs, My Lord." With a nod to his son, and a dip of his head toward His Eminence, Athos re-joined his men. Mounting Roger, he felt a twinge of pain right where he took that cut near his shoulder blade. With Aramis tending the wound, however, it had not pained him since. Brushing the annoyance to the side, he called out his orders.

++++

"What's that smug look on you're face all about, Mis?"

"Didn't you notice how the younger recruits observe what I do, mon frere?"

Snorting, amusement danced in his dark eyes. "Non. But I'm positive you're gonna tell me."

"When I catch people staring at me," preening for his friend, Aramis beamed, "I assume they're taking notes upon how to be awesome."

Bending forward, slapping his thighs, Porthos couldn't contain his snort of laughter. "Sometimes I wonder 'ow ya put up with me." He wiped tears of mirth from his face. "Then I remember... oh, I put up with ya so we're even." The hurt look Aramis sent him nearly set Porthos off again.

"Hmmpf!" With a sniff of disdain, ignoring further levity from his friend, Aramis mounted Belle.

"Are you done insulting our brother?" From underneath the brim of his chapeau, Athos stared hard at his friend until Porthos began to squirm.

"I'll get Roulette," Porthos mumbled.

"Do that so we can be on our way." Holding his hand up, slowly dropping it, Athos signaled the soldiers to move out.

++++

_Notes:_

_Maladrins_ – brigands  
_Voleurs_ – thieves  
_Dieu merci_ – thank God  
_Famille_ \- family  
_Petite fille_ \- little girl  
_Canaille_ \- scoundrel  
_Le Diable_ \- the devil

 _Quote: “Thank God we don’t look like what we’ve been through”_ – from Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "You know the older you get the more you appreciate being at home doing nothing."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "My kid is just as weird and twisted as I am. I'm not sure if I should be proud or scared."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "The most powerful weapon to conquer the devil is humility. As he does not know at all how to employ it, neither does he know how to defend himself from it."_ \- from Saint Vincent de Paul (24 April 1581 – 27 September 1660) was a French Roman Catholic priest who dedicated himself to serving the poor. He is venerated as a saint in the Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion. He was canonized in 1737. He was renowned for his compassion, humility and generosity.

 _Quote: "I'm sorry, did the middle of my sentence interrupt the beginning of yours?"_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "When I catch people staring at me I assume they're taking notes on how to be awesome."_ from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me. Then I remember, oh I put up with you... so we're even."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Back in Paris... finally_

Things settled down again once everyone returned back to the city. Cardinal Richelieu ensconced himself at the Palais-Cardinal. King Louis was relieved that no harm had come to his First Minister, young d’Artagnan or any of his Musketeers.

As for d’Artagnan, barely had he stepped a foot inside his home when he was enthusiastically welcomed by Constance. Her warm embrace lightened his heart, as he was already missing his new friends back at the monastery.

“If you squeeze him any tighter the lad may pass out from lack of oxygen.” Chuckling at the face she pulled at him, Aramis walked over and took Constance into his arms. “What of my greeting, eh?”

“With everyone about watching us,” she squeaked in alarm. Listening to laughter in the background, Constance’s face turn bright red. “Now look what you’ve done!” Pushing away from him she fanned her heated cheeks, upset they’d had an audience noting her reaction.

“What _I’ve_ done?” Never able at the best of times to fathom a woman’s logic, Aramis assumed that he would have to bide his time until the two of them were alone.

Changing the subject abruptly, Constance folded her arms looking directly at the young Gascon. “D’Art, I expect you to tell me everything that happened while you were away with the cardinal.” Having worried herself sick ever since Captain Treville had sent the inseparables and other soldiers out to rescue the boy and His Eminence, Constance hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since.

“On the plus side,” smiling pleasantly at her, d’Artagnan took Constance’s hand squeezing it gently, “I’ve made a lot of good friends there.” Impishly grinning he added, “In particular petite Marie. You’d find the minx a delight.”

“I hope to meet her sometime.” Very pleased that the lad seemed in one piece, and had made new acquaintances along the way, Constance would keep at the youngster until he told her all of it.

++++

Porthos and Athos had been standing off to one side observing the young lady with their son and then Aramis.

“Those two love birds already act like they’re married.” He was happy for them, Porthos really was. “Still don’t feel it’s a life for me.”

"Do you not want to have a child of your own loins... aside from d'Art that is?" Amazed at what had come out of his mouth, Athos considered his past history with Anne. Wishing he could take those words back, Athos was not in the least surprised at Porthos' response.

Shaking his head, Porthos snorted. "A weddin' band is the smallest shackle ever made." Cocking an eyebrow, a grin of amusement crossed his swarthy complexion. "Be sure ta choose your cell-mate wisely." When Athos' lips began to curl up in the corners, Porthos clapped the man's shoulder.

"Some day I vow you will meet a woman that changes your heart." Wishing that it was the same for him, Athos pushed his wayward thoughts to the back of his mind.

"Oh that's rich comin' from the likes of ya." Expecting a snarky comeback Porthos was disappointed when only an arched brow rose, followed by a muttered _Pfft_. Ribbing his friend all the more, Porthos pressed on. "I've 'eard some say marriage is made in heaven." Rolling his eyes at the thought, he chuckled. "I say so is thunder and lightnin'."

++++

Having untangled herself from Aramis, Constance watched d'Artagnan playfully swat his père upside the back of the head. From what she could hear, it was because the boy felt that Aramis had embarrassed her. Upon Aramis chasing his son around the room in retaliation, she stamped her foot in annoyance. " _Aramis! Stop acting like a child_!"

Out of breath still not having caught the pup Aramis stopped, incredulously staring back at her. Placing hands on his hips, one foot beat a tattoo on the floor. "I would be more inclined to _grow up_ if I saw that it worked for everyone else." His eyes slid toward Porthos of course, knowing the mischief his brother could get up to rivaled any child's. Engaged in conversation with Athos, Porthos hadn't heard Aramis' words.

Thinking that all men were nothing more than petits pretending to be adults, Constance's gaze rested on the inseparables. Then again Athos couldn't be lumped into that category. That would be a disservice to her friend. Out of nearly every gentleman she had ever met, Athos had the most level head. Having raised a child helped turned the older man around and pulled him away from his heavy drinking. "Look, boys, I've got to get back to work. So I'll see all of you later." With a last glance over her shoulder, Constance zeroed in on the youngster. "Do try not to get into anymore trouble, d'Art. I believe you've used up your yearly quotient." With a smirk touching her lips, opening the door she let herself out.

"Did ya get inta an argument with 'er?" Standing shoulder to shoulder with Aramis, Porthos' eyes danced. "'Ere's a relationship tip for ya. Take it or not." Slapping his friend's back, he shared his thoughts. "It doesn't matter if your woman is right or wrong. The argument isn't over until _you_ understand where she's comin' from."

"My thanks for those pearls of wisdom," Aramis snapped. "Think I'll go make us all something to eat."

"I'll help you, papa."

"You're a good lad, d'Art." Ushering the youth into the kitchen Aramis started rummaging through the cupboards for the cast iron skillet, which he felt like using on Porthos' thick skull. "You get into way too much trouble for my liking but you have the biggest heart of any person I know." When his son began to blush, Aramis turned to the task at hand humming softly to himself.

Athos walked into the kitchen, a frown marring his features. "It never seems to stop," he murmured to no one in particular. Holding up a missive his eyes latched onto Aramis'. "A messenger just delivered this from Treville. It would seem we have new orders."

"Is the sky falling again?" Huffing, Aramis cursed under his breath. "We just came home."

"And now we shall be departing it again," Athos dryly countered. "We leave on the morrow for Le Havre." Lips tightening, Athos caught his son's look of curiosity. Staving off questions, he held up a hand. "A merchant trader and explorer by the name of Emile Bonnaire is to be brought back to Paris to be reprimanded for breaking France's trade treaty." Tiredly sighing, Athos pulled out a chair to sit down. Running fingers through his hair he then rested arms upon the table.

"May I come along?" Nearly jumping out of his skin, both d'Artagnan's papas shouted back at him.

_"NON!"_

Aramis had quite forgotten he still held the skillet in his hand. No wonder the boy back-pedaled a few paces away. D'Artagnan probably thought he was going to throw it at him. Placing it on the stove, where it belonged, he went to say his piece but was beaten to the punch by Athos.

"You are going to stay right here, young man!" Athos forcefully snapped.

"What's all the yammerin' goin' on?" He had heard some of it when entering the kitchen. Leaning against the wall, arms folded, Porthos took in the anger on his brother's faces as both men glared at the runt. The latter appeared somewhat annoyed when Athos told d'Artagnan that the kid couldn't come with them. If that's what was causing all this ruckus, Porthos was in full agreement. "If'n I 'ave ta sit on ya, whelp, ya ain't comin' with us."

"I get the picture." Throwing his hands up in the air, disappointment filled d'Artagnan. "You've all seen how I can handle myself. I don't get it."

"What you do not _get_ , pup, is that you are only twelve years of age." Drumming fingers upon the kitchen table, Athos' head was tilted at an angle studying his son. "Something of which you tend to forget all too easily."

"The constant grey in our hairs would attest to that," snorted Aramis.

"Guess Constance won't mind babysitting me again." Upon setting the table, when d'Artagnan placed a plate near papa Athos his hand was gently grasped.

Pressing his son's hand, Athos stared up into the hurt brown orbs. "You still do not understand how precious to us you are."

His bruised feelings began to fade away, upon the tenderness and love d'Artagnan noted in papa's eyes. "I know how much all of you love me," he shrugged one shoulder. "Just sometimes I feel stifled by it and want to spread my wings."

"Ya can spread 'em good and proper right 'ere in Paris." Hugging his child, Porthos dropped a kiss on top of d'Artagnan's head.

"If I wasn't cooking I'd hug you too." Understanding where the youngster was coming from, Aramis felt that perhaps he and his brothers could somehow find common ground to work through their pup's growing pains. "Now all of you get out of my kitchen or else dinner will be ruined. I can't concentrate listening to all of this."

"We have been warned." Chuckling, Athos scraped his chair back and stood up. "D'Art, up to a game of chess?"

Grinning, d'Artagnan's head bobbed. "Always." Walking out with papa, he nudged the older man's shoulder with his own. "Be prepared to lose, old man." Getting his hair ruffled for his teasing, d'Artagnan took it all in stride.

"That's confidence for ya." Porthos' gruff laughter filled the kitchen.

"I beat Louis nearly all the time." Bewildered at the exchange of wriggling eyebrows between his papas, d'Artagnan frowned.

"Runt, His Majesty never could play chess very well ta begin with." Patting the whelp's back, Porthos left them to it.

Observing papa Athos' knowing smirk, d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed. "I'm still going to beat you."

"We shall see." Setting up the chess pieces, Athos eased into his favorite chair.

++++

_Next morn_

Having kissed d'Artagnan goodbye, sending him off to the palace for his lessons with the Dauphin though the lad was reluctant to go, the inseparables departed for their journey.

Traveling through the city streets a rich and sultry voice called out to Athos.

Tugging on Roger's reins, Athos twisted around in the saddle trying to locate where the woman's voice came from. Upon noting whom it belonged to, he deeply scowled.

"Really, Athos," she clucked her tongue. "If you stare at everyone in that manner no wonder people want to run for their lives." Chuckling, she added, "You don't even have to aim any of your weapons at them either." The hearty laughter from her ex-husband's two comrades brought a delightful sparkle to Milady's green eyes. "I only heard that all of you had arrived back and wondered how d'Artagnan fared."

"The lad is fine and acquitted himself quite admirably." She always had the ability to put him off-balance, whenever Athos was near her. Having Anne ask after his son continued to do that as well, never fully trusting her motives behind the inquiries. "Though there was more to what went on at the monastery than I managed to get out of the pup so far." Now why did he tell her that?

"Everyone keeps secrets, Athos. Tis not just adults that own the privilege." Realizing she shouldn't have said that because of their past history, Milady could have kicked herself. Now he's scowling at her again. This was ridiculous! Inwardly sighing, Anne dared to ask another question. "Off on a mission again so soon or simply patrolling the city to keep us safe?"

"We are being dispatched to Le Havre," offered Aramis with a friendly smile toward her.

"Gotta catch us a man causin' the Spanish king an upset and therefore our monarch as well." Grinning, Porthos roguishly winked at the woman.

Her gaze though never wavered off of Athos. "Do you need an extra hand?"

Taken aback from her offer Athos' brain malfunctioned, for but a moment or two, before he gathered his wits about him. "I doubt Treville would appreciate us accepting. We already turned down d'Art wanting to do so."

"You never know when a woman's touch may come in handy." Pulling her shawl about her shoulders more tightly, Anne smiled. "See you later then."

"Not if I see you first." Quietly muttering to himself Athos caught smug expressions covering his brother's faces. "Don't give me those looks."

"We've got a _look_?" Glancing at Aramis, pretending confusion, it was hard for Porthos to keep a straight face.

"Haven't got the faintest idea what Athos is going on about." Playing the innocent, Aramis slyly winked at his large friend.

"Gentlemen," slowly drawing the word out, Athos arched one brow, "and I use that term loosely, let us be on our way. We have four days of dirt to eat up if we are to beat Bonnaire's ship coming to port."

"'E's such a killjoy ain't 'e, Mis?"

"A proper party pooper albeit a sarcastic one, that's our Athos." Readily agreeing with his friend, Aramis ducked from his eldest brother's hand that threatened to knock Aramis' chapeau off.

"Enough hi-jinx," Athos scolded. Those were the last words he uttered for several miles and beyond. During their travels, Athos considered his companions. Sometimes those two acted more like children than their own son. Best not let d'Artagnan here that for he knew the lad would not let any of them forget it.

++++

_Slightly over four days later - Le Havre_

Swaggering down the gangplank Bonnaire took in the smell of the ocean' breezes, while making his way to his favorite watering hole. Whatever ship he managed to sail on, once it docked into port, Bonnaire never missed an opportunity to pay a visit to his favorite watering hole. Humming a tune, nodding his head to everyone that passed his way, he contemplated the name of the tavern. It was an apt description of himself. Entering Le Repaire Du Contrebandier, Bonnaire announced in a loud voice to be heard above the din _"Drinks for the whole house!"_ Cheers went up at that and he went to find a place to sit.

Unbeknownst to Bonnaire, there were eyes observing him from a distance. Two pairs belonged to Athos and Porthos, sitting off in a darkened corner of the room.

"A man that likes to draw attention to himself." Glancing at his brother, Athos added his thoughts. "Not a very wise thing to do considering his position."

"Think 'e knows 'e's bein' watched?" Sipping his lager, Porthos' eyes never strayed from their prey.

"The man is too full of himself to note anything or anyone but himself." With a nod of his head toward another direction, Athos indicated that they were not the only ones keeping an eye on the flamboyant character. "It appears that Bonnaire has numerous enemies."

A grunt was all the response Porthos gave to Athos' words.

While oblivious to the noose tightening around his neck, Bonnaire made time by flirting with the tavern wenches. That was until suddenly another woman burst through the entrance shouting his name.

 _"EMILE!"_ Storming over to where the trader was she made fast work of the other woman sitting upon Emile's lap.

As that was going on Aramis, who sat apart from his friends, noted other men making their way toward the explorer. Signaling to Porthos and Athos, he stood up. Intercepting the unknown men, whom doubtless were not feeling friendly toward the casanova, the inseparables contained them during a brief fight.

Having his time taken up with the outraged woman, Bonnaire had managed to dodge a few bodies that came his way. Bowing at the three men that had helped him out he said, "Gentlemen, my thanks. I can't thank you enough," he gruffly laughed. "Lucky for me you were here."

"Not entirely," Athos drawled. "Emile Bonnaire, I am Athos of the king's Musketeers. You are under arrest." Stepping aside, so Porthos could take any weapons the man had on his person, Athos pressed on. "We are taking you to Paris to appear before the king."

Dumbfounded, shaking his head, Bonnaire gazed at the three soldiers. "Non, I'm afraid I can't... can't travel today because I've got important business here."

"Your business will have to wait." Sharing a long look with Aramis, Athos thought that the journey home was going to feel a never-ending one in the company of this canaille.

Worried that perhaps these Musketeers didn't know whom they were dealing with, Bonnaire tried again. "Do you know who I am?" Of course he figured the soldiers probably were only given the bare bones about his background, but Bonnaire had to get out of this predicament somehow.

"Non." Cocking his head to the side, Aramis' eyes crinkled up in the corners. "Why? Have you forgotten?" Noting Bonnaire was at a loss for words, Aramis jerked his thumb at the woman who had nearly caused a riot. "What about her?"

" _I_ have a name! Tis Maria Bonnaire!" Having made her announcement, you could hear a pin drop in the tavern.

"Gentlemen... my wife." Introducing her, Bonnaire winced.

Nudging Porthos in the side, Aramis muttered, "That explains a lot."

Grinning, Porthos looked first at Athos and then Aramis. "Nothin' like a straight forward assignment."

The feisty wife of Bonnaire kept trying to create problems for them. So it ended up that while Porthos kept guard over the trader, Aramis and Athos had to lock Madame in one of the empty rooms upstairs. Handing over some coins to the barkeep for the inconvenience plus damages along the way, the inseparables left with what they had come for.

++++

_Notes:_

Once again, mes amis, I have decided to use another episode twisting it all the way around. You should have recognized right away it's from season one, episode three - _Commodities_. I've used some dialog from the show in certain spots as well.

 _Quote: "A wedding band is the smallest handcuff ever made. Be sure to choose your cell-mate wisely."_ \- from Aunty Acid. Now I changed it somewhat because handcuffs weren't made back in the 17th century but shackles were. I thought it still fit well.

 _Quote: "Some say marriage is made in heaven. I say so is thunder and lightning."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I would be more inclined to grow up if I saw that it worked for everyone else."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Here's a relationship tip for you. It doesn't matter if your woman is right or wrong. The argument isn't over until you understand where she's coming from."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote:" Do you know who I am? / Non. Why? Have you forgotten?_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Canaille_ \- scoundrel

 _Le Repaire Du Contrebandier_ \- according to several translation sites it roughly means: _The Lair of the Smuggler_. Thanks to FierGascon, once again, for correcting me on it.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No d'Art in this chapter as the boys are busy getting Bonnaire to Paris.  
> Also Lady_Neve your wish has been granted. Read on…
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_En route to Paris_

Aramis lagged behind the wagon that carried Porthos and Bonnaire. He wanted to make sure the area was clear of maladrins. Hearing the pounding sounds of hoof beats, he circled around to hide in some trees. Noting the familiar figures from the tavern they had just vacated, Aramis dug his heels into the sides of Belle. Galloping off in a different direction, Aramis caught up to Athos. _“We’re being followed!”_ he shouted out. _Two men dressed in black about a mile behind!”_

While the marksman drew closer, Athos eyes scanned the area. “The men from the inn?”

“Oui.” Riding abreast of his brother, Aramis’ eyes strayed upon the wagon.

“What are they waiting for?” Shaking his head, Athos should have realized they were not going to get away Scott free with their prisoner. “If we stay off the road we should lose them.” Veering away from the main path, Athos spotted a derelict building. Riding up to the wagon he told Porthos to head for it.

When they got there Aramis and Athos dismounted, both did a quick once over of the grounds. So did Porthos but he stayed close to the wagon and Bonnaire.

Noting an uneasy look upon Aramis’ face, Athos instantly realized something was off. “What is it? What is going on?” When Aramis unsheathed his rapier Athos did likewise.

Porthos pulled Bonnaire down from the wagon making the man hide underneath it out of harm’s way.

Turning in a circle, Aramis shouted, _“Come out and state your business!”_

A slight smile gracing his lips, Athos stared at his friend. “That was very formal.”

“I like to be polite.” Aramis had no time for chit chat after that, as a group of canailles exited the building. Some even rushed out from behind the cover of some bushes. How these men knew they would be stopping here was something of a mystery, unless they too had a spy back at the tavern. Which meant that they were being followed by more than one faction.

A few of their attackers were armed with heavy chains which Aramis and Porthos had a hard time avoiding. When twisting away from his opponent, he managed to run his blade through the other man’s left side. In doing so Aramis was caught off guard by a harsh blow to the back of his head from another set of chains. Collapsing to the ground Aramis promptly passed out.

When Aramis went down, Athos aimed his pistol and fired at the canaille that had injured his brother. Upon doing that he heard a voice yelling out to stop the attack. That _voice_ materialized, turning into a body that cautiously approached Athos. The stranger’s eyes, he noted, kept glancing at Bonnaire the entire time. “Porthos, see to Aramis. I’ll deal with this.”

“My fight is not so much with you as it is with your prisoner,” said the stranger.

“I am Athos of the king’s Musketeers.” A sideways glance at the trader made his lips tightened into a fine line. “Bonnaire, you seem to attract trouble like a magnet.” His thoughts briefly strayed to his son. Another trouble magnet in the making. 

A weak smile spread across Bonnaire’s face. “I can’t help being popular.” Wincing at the look the Musketeer sent him, did not bode well. Remaining quiet seemed his best option for the time being.

“I’m Paul Meunier and that,” he stabbed a finger in the air toward Bonnaire, “is my business partner.” Sneering he added, “Or should I say a _former_ one?” Glaring at the cowering trader, Meunier brought his attention back to the Musketeer. “I never received my last cargo from him. I wanted satisfaction and this was the only way open to me.”

“He is under arrest,” said Athos. “Bonnaire will be facing charges when we take him before His Majesty.” Noting the torn look on the aggrieved merchant’s face, Athos hoped his next words helped appease Meunier somewhat. “I promise he would pay for his crimes against France.”

When Meunier called off his men and they dispersed, Athos secured Bonnaire to the wagon. Going over to where Porthos tried to revive Aramis, he dropped to his knees by the marksman’s head. Grimly looking his brother over, his concern grew upon Porthos remaining silent.

Knowing Athos waited for him to report Aramis’ condition, Porthos held up his bloody fingers. “There’s a cut ta the back of ‘is ‘ead and a lump’s already formin’.” Watching the tight expression cross Athos’ face, what he had to say next would only make his friend feel worse. “’E’s been talkin’ in Spanish again.” In the past whenever Aramis had been hurt or sick, out of his head with pain, his brother spoke Spanish. Something his friend had learned from a priest whose church had been near Aramis’ home where the man had grown up.

Only knowing a smattering of words himself, Porthos didn’t understand what his friend was saying. Athos had some knowledge of the language so he’d leave it up to him to interpret. Having gotten a clean cloth from his saddlebag, Porthos tried to wrap it around Aramis’ wound. It didn’t help that his brother kept batting Porthos’ hands away.

“Dejame en paz,” mumbled Aramis, head twisting left and right, eyes still tightly closed. The more he felt hands fiddling about his head, Aramis slowly cracked his eyes open. Dizzy, vision blurry, he did not know what was happening nor where he was. “ _Tener cuidado!_ ” Struggling to lift his head up he let out a low groan, immediately laying it back down. “Mal?”

“Athos, what the ‘ell ‘as ‘e been sayin?” Frustrated, not knowing what Aramis had said, Porthos’ fists clenched by his sides.

“At first he wanted you to leave him alone.” Porthos’ eyeroll was not an unexpected one. “I am not sure Aramis knows quite where he is at.” Running a hand down the side of his face, Athos sighed. “I believe he just asked us if his injury was bad.”

“Talkin’ outta your ‘ead the way ya are, don’t make it look good!” Angry that his brother had been hurt, Porthos hadn't really meant to take it out on his injured friend. Scowling their prisoner’s way, his expression made Bonnaire flinched. Yeah he better watch himself. It was because of him that Aramis was in this condition.

“Lo siento.” Not sure why the large man appeared mad at him, Aramis felt the need to apologize. Somehow this felt familiar. Perhaps he got hurt on a daily basis which would explain the anger directed at him.

“ _Oy!_ ” Touching the cloth he had just wrapped around Aramis' wound, Porthos looked helplessly at Athos. “’Is brain’s scrambled all right.”

Standing back up, Athos straightened his doublet. “Though we really cannot afford to delay very long, we shall remain here until Aramis has a more sense of self.” Realizing that if his brother didn’t recover shortly they would be a man short in escorting Bonnaire back.

“Mis never ‘ad much sense ta begin with.”

A slight lift of one brow accompanied Athos’ slight annoyance with Porthos. “I dare you to repeat that to him once he is of sound mind again.”

Struggling to sit up Aramis felt himself being gently moved, by a pair of large dark-skinned hands, to be propped up against the rough bark of a tree. “Gracias.”

“De nada,” said Porthos. Listening to Athos stifling his laughter, he gave his friend a brief look. “One of the few words I know,” he grunted. “Just wonder ‘ow long this,” pointing to the wound, Porthos made a face, "'is gonna last.”

“Aramis, how do you feel?” Waiting to see how his friend would respond, Athos was disappointed to hear Aramis still speaking Spanish.

“Mas o menos.” Gingerly touching the back of his head, Aramis grimaced with pain. Noting the worry evident on the other two men’s faces, he hung his head down. “Lo siento.” Somehow he felt that this was all his fault. Just as the thought had crossed his mind, Aramis heard nearly the same words repeated but they didn’t hold any blame attached to them.

“Not your fault.” Hating to have to stay in one place for any length of time, knowing they may have others trailing after them, Athos went back to check on Bonnaire leaving Porthos with their brother.

Holding up one hand, wriggling his fingers, Porthos asked, “’Ow many are there?”

Squinting, Aramis stared quite hard at them then closed his eyes. “Hay muchos.”

“Ask a dumb question.” Groaning because he didn’t know what Aramis just said, Porthos glanced over his shoulder to locate Athos. His older friend was actually closer to him than Porthos had thought. “Did ya catch that?”

Bonnaire was still where Athos had left him, if somewhat shaken. Nodding his head, he squatted down beside Porthos. “Aramis told you there were too many fingers, mon ami.”

“No te preocupes.” Waving his hand at them, Aramis winced. Touching the back of his head once more he murmured, “Me duele la cabeza.”

Releasing a long breath, Athos shared concerned looks again with Porthos. "His head is paining him. We are not going to stay here any longer." Observing Porthos' nod of agreement, he walked around to one side of Aramis. "Let us get him into the back of the wagon."

With Porthos on the other side of Aramis both men managed to get their brother up off the ground, albeit slowly. "Sure glad d'Art ain't 'ere ta see Mis injured like this."

"Perdon?"

"Never mind, Mis," grunted Porthos. No sense explaining who d'Artagnan was when his brother didn't seem to know who he or Athos were.

Swaying slightly, Aramis leaned heavily against Porthos' shoulder. Grinning like a drunkard, he patted the other man's face. "Me gustas mucho."

At Athos' huff of laughter, Porthos turned toward him with questioning eyes.

"He likes you, mon ami." With a twinkle in his own blue eyes, Athos made sure they had Aramis comfortably settled before their journey back. "Tis to be hoped that Aramis improves before we get home."

"Vamos," murmured Aramis tiredly.

"Oui, we are leaving, mon frere." Mounting Roger, Athos took the lead while Porthos climbed up into the wagon.

"Will he be all right?" Looking over his shoulder at the Musketeer now lying there, Bonnaire was startled by the dark-skinned man's low growl.

"If 'e ain't it's because of ya." Trying to ignore the explorer, Porthos tuned him out. They had a lot of miles to eat up before hitting Paris.

As the journey progressed, however, Aramis' condition greatly improved. A huge relief lifted from Porthos' shoulders, when he actually held a brief conversation with his friend and not one word of Spanish passed the marksman's lips. When Aramis would have continued to speak, Porthos shushed him and told his brother to rest some more. Happier now, he was more open to listening to the trader's chatter. Bonnaire was going on about how wonderful everything would be in the New World. Pleased to know that freed slaves prospered there, Porthos began opening up to the explorer.

For his part, Bonnaire wasn't surprised to discover that Porthos' roots could be traced clear back to West Africa. He admired what the man had made of himself by becoming a Musketeer in the king's regiment. "I think you and your comrades should join me in the colonies. There are opportunities for men of your caliber." Warming up to his subject, despite the shackles binding his hands, Bonnaire kept on. "All of you could be rich." The Musketeer Athos, he knew, heard every word. So had the one called Aramis. The roguish looking man had recovered and was sitting up now listening. "You should join me, all of you."

"There is something that you are forgetting, Bonnaire." Slowing Roger down, Athos turned in the saddle to stare at the man. "The outcome of your lively hood depends upon your audience with Cardinal Richelieu and His Majesty. Observing worry enter Bonnaire's eyes, Athos looked away.

++++

_Paris, Royal Palace - King Louis' chambers_

"This Bonnaire," pausing, King Louis watched Cardinal Richelieu pacing the floor, "I suppose we shall have to punish him."

"The Spanish say he had broken your treaty and plans to establish his own colonies in the name of France." Finished wearing out the floor, hovering over the king's shoulder, Richelieu waited to hear how His Majesty felt upon the subject.

"That's very wicked of him," said King Louis with a touch of sarcasm. "We must respond appropriately. Explorers really are the most terrible bores." Smiling at his own jab, he glanced up at the cardinal. "I discovered this... I named that. No doubt Bonnaire's cut from the same cloth."

"No doubt, Sire," dryly drawled Richelieu.

"Still I suppose one might call him a patriot, eh Cardinal?"

Clearing his throat, Richelieu appeared pained. "Bien, that's certainly not the word the Spanish ambassador used."

++++

_Halfway to Paris... a mishap_

“ _Merde!_ ” spat Athos as he looked at the broken axle on their wagon. “We cannot afford to dally with repairs. Not when there could be others following us.”

“And you are positive they still are?” asked Aramis, whom now appeared to have his wits about him.

A pointed look toward Bonnaire, from Athos, told his brothers all it needed too. There was also another slight problem. When the axle broke, and the wagon tilted to one side, the horses pulling it sustained injuries. There would be no extra mount for their prisoner to use. Roulette and Belle had both been tied to the back of the wagon but were his brother's horses. 

“Isn’t that a farm over yonder?” His vision had cleared up and Aramis’ keen eyesight was back to normal.

“Everyone remain here,” ordered Athos. “I shall endeavor to find another horse for our prisoner.”

Fifteen minutes or more had passed, by the time Athos returned horseless. Still all was not lost as he had managed to borrow, with a promise to return, the farmer’s donkey. It was rather appropriate, or so he thought with slight amusement.

“That’s not a horse.” Bonnaire’s rough, gravelly voice spoke out in surprise.

“You do have some intelligence left, Bonnaire,” mused Athos. “Tis all the farmer could spare me and we are lucky he could give us the use of this animal.” Also Athos had paid the farmer to take care of the other horses until someone from the Garrison returned for them.

“Why can’t I ride double with one of you?” Noting the fiercely annoyed faces the three Musketeers graced him with, Bonnaire was sorry he had asked.

Shoved toward the donkey, Bonnaire stumbled slightly. Eyeing the animal with distaste, it was his turn to turn stubborn. "I refuse to arrive at the palace on an ass!" he announced indignantly, thoroughly put out at the treatment he'd been receiving.

When Athos unsheathed his sword to point it directly at Bonnaire's face, he began to realize he was choiceless in the matter. Reluctantly capitulating, Bonnaire got upon the donkey. However, a frown marred his features upon Porthos' next words. 

"Takes one ta know one." Laughing, Porthos hit out at the donkey's rump to get it moving along.

++++

_A few days more... Paris - Palais-Cardinal_

Eager to be with their son, but knowing their duty wasn't completely over yet, the inseparables took Emile Bonnaire directly to the Palais-Cardinal. Richelieu would deal with the man first, before the trader would be brought up before the king for judgment.

++++

_Cardinal Richelieu's office_

Standing in the center of the room, beads of sweat dotted Bonnaire's forehead. Feeling totally abandoned, which was the case after his escort manhandled him inside here and then left him on his own, he waited for the cardinal to speak.

Richelieu circled around Bonnaire, trying to take stock of the man. Thinking upon all the upset this explorer had brought to France, his eyes narrowed.

If Bonnaire thought Athos' glare had been intimidating, His Eminence's was even more so.

"What is the king to make of the rumor that you are setting up tobacco plantations in the New World and importing slaves to work them in direct contravention of our trade pact with Spain?" Obviously none of the inseparables had yet to discover that one of Bonnaires side activities included collecting slaves. Initially Richelieu considered making Porthos stay at the Garrison and not go on this mission. He and Treville had talked at length over the matter. Both, however, had decided it was best that Porthos journey with his brothers to Le Havre. They would simply leave that detail out of their briefing with the soldiers. Which would explain Bonnaire's relatively healthy appearance. If Porthos had discovered the explorer's true colors, Richelieu feared the man wouldn't have escaped unscathed. Unfortunately the trader wasn't being brought up on charges pertaining to dealing in human flesh. Though that could change at any time.

"Did you imagine I wouldn't take any interest in a matter that _directly... concerns... the... king... himself_!" Voice escalating, it indicated Richelieu's growing fury at Bonnaire. So far he didn't give the trader a chance to defend himself. The thought struck him that for Bonnaire to risk his neck, for what he believed in, perhaps there was something more to the man's ventures than Richelieu had been aware of. The possibility that they could resolve the upset, caused with King Phillip over Bonnaire's business dealings, made him gaze shrewdly at the trader. "With so much at stake I can only suppose the rewards of your enterprise must be very great?"

"Riches beyond dreams, Your Eminence."

Humming softly, Richelieu's head dipped. "Indeed."

"I'm a patriot," said Bonnaire proudly. "A true son of France. and it hurts me to see opportunities squandered."

Eyes narrowing on the much smaller man, Richelieu snapped, "Opportunities for France or for yourself?"

"Both, My Lord." Swallowing hard upon the cardinal's tone, Bonnaire worried all the more for his own neck.

"Let me see your plans, Monsieur Bonnaire." If what the other man boasted of really could benefit the country, Richelieu would speak with King Louis. Investing in Bonnaire's tobacco plantations sounded a wise move and he would make sure His Majesty understood it was in France's best interests. Then they would have a contract drawn up forcing the explorer to stop dealing in the distasteful business of slavery.

++++

_Notes:_

_Canailles:_ scoundrels

 _Maladrins:_ brigands

Lady_Neve wanted Aramis to speak some Spanish after perhaps being injured. Though I admit to knowing a few words here or there of Spanish, as I do French. I don’t speak the language and had to rely on translation sites.  So if there is anyone that does know it, if I’ve gotten it wrong, do gently tell me and I’ll correct the error.

 _Spanish:_  
_Dejame en paz_ – leave me alone  
_Tener cuidado_ – watch out  
_Mal_ – bad  
_Perdon_ – excuse me  
_Gracias_ – thank you.  
_De nada_ – you’re welcome  
_Mas o menos_ – so-so  
_Lo siento_ – I’m sorry  
_Hay muchos_ – there are many  
_No te preocupes_ – don’t worry  
_Me duele la cabeza_ – my head hurts  
_Me gustas mucho_ \- I like you very much  
_Vamos_ \- let's go


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day – the Louvre_

Realizing that d’Artagnan would still be at the palace, due to the lad’s lessons, the inseparables rode straight over there to let the boy know they were home.

Walking inside the Louvre, the Musketeers spoke to some of the guards on duty as they made their way to the room the youngster’s lessons were held. They found there was not a need to seek out their son when instead they heard sounds of joyous laughter, followed by the heavy pounding of running feet. Standing rooted to the spot they observed d’Artagnan race down the corridor with the Dauphin not far behind. Apparently their young Gascon had forgiven the impetuous young Louis.

Upon the sight of his papas, d’Artagnan skidded to a halt right in front of the trio. Pleased to see them all he threw his arms around each man in turn, embracing them in a tight hug. “Tis good to have all of you home again.” Frowning, d’Artagnan noted the cloth peeking out from below the brim of papa Aramis’ chapeau. “You're injured?”

Before Aramis said a word, Porthos butted in first. “Mis got ‘is brains rattled again, runt.”

“Truly, d’Art,” wishing Porthos hadn’t phrased his wound in such a way, Aramis tried to make light of it, “tis nothing to be concerned with.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” Folding his arms, d’Artagnan studied papa closely. He usually knew when the older man was lying. They all had their own tells. Papa Aramis had several. One was a twitch that would appear near his right eye, whenever he wasn’t being truthful.

“We shall endeavor to explain what happened on our journey,” said Athos slowly, holding up a finger, “only if you share whatever it was that you held back from us during your escape from the monastery.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” Eyes sliding away from them, d’Artagnan encountered Louis’ guilty expression.

“Ya told 'im though but not us.” The Dauphin never could keep a secret well. Once, a few years back, the child was to have kept quiet about a surprise birthday party for the whelp. Porthos remembered how the petit had later blurted it out to their son without meaning to in his excitement.

“It sort of slipped out when I was telling Louis about the trip,” reluctantly admitting that, d'Artagnan sighed. Hanging his head down, he mumbled something unintelligible.

“Eh, didn’t quite catch that, d’Art,” voiced Aramis, throwing a quick wink at his brothers. "I don't believe my hearing got addled from my slight mishap."

“I had to take another life.” Lifting his head up, there was sadness reflected in his brown eyes.

“Ah!” That explained much. Athos had figured it had to do with something like that. Getting his son to admit it was like telling Serge they didn't want to hear one of the old man's war stories. “You did what you had to, d’Art. Not only to protect yourself but you were also defending Cardinal Richelieu.”

“Yeah, boyo.” Nodding his head in full agreement with his friend, Porthos thumped d’Artagnan’s shoulder hard a few times. “Ya did good. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.”

Stepping forward Aramis placed both hands on his son’s shoulders, once Porthos was through creating new bruises on the lad. “I'll never get tired of saying this but you make us proud every single day. Don’t ever forget that.” Chucking the young man under the chin, adding a hair ruffle to accompany it, Aramis began whistling.

Feeling that everything had been said that needed to be, d’Artagnan wanted to know how the mission had gone. “What trouble did you encounter getting Bonnaire back to Paris?” Noting the three men exchange looks, of various degrees, d’Artagnan knew there was a story there. Somehow he realized their assignment hadn't gone exactly as planned. Papa Athos always told him that their missions usually tended to go sideways more often than he’d like. Apparently this last one was no exception. “And don't try and whitewash it for me because something had to have happened to cause papa Aramis to get his _brains rattled_." The man in question, of course, rolled his eyes at d'Artagnan's not so subtle jab.

Despite d'Artagnan wanting the truth, Athos still intended to gloss over certain aspects of their journey back to Paris. He certainly didn't want the lad to know how worried they had been when Aramis got injured. Just as he was about to discuss the mission with his son, Athos got a reprieve when Rene joined them.

“You guys must be really upset over what happened.” Noting three blank faces staring back at him, Rene became slightly nervous that perhaps he had said something that he shouldn’t have.

“What are you talking of?” questioned Athos, suddenly overcome with a feeling that he would not enjoy the answer.

“Bonnaire’s a free man. He’s not even going to spend a single night in the Chatelet by the look of things.” Noting the news was not well received, Rene pressed on anyway. “Cardinal Richelieu cut a deal with him apparently.” Hesitating to say more, he was relieved when Athos nodded for him to continue. “Word around the Palais-Cardinal was that France is now going to be an investor in Bonnaire’s tobacco plantation business.”

“Don’t that beat all,” snorted Porthos angrily. “Mis ‘ere nearly gets ‘is brains bashed in with a chain and Bonnaire barely gets a slap on the wrist.” During his venting, Porthos had ignored Athos making a slashing motion across his throat. Guess it was too late now to take back his words. The cat was clearly out of the bag on that one.

Brown eyes narrowed upon blue. “I believe tis now you, papa, that has left something out regarding how badly papa Aramis was wounded.” Focusing his ire at papa Athos, d’Artagnan shared a brief look with Louis. The latter was confused, of course, but kept quiet despite it.

“Porthos,” drawled Athos, “at times your mouth is as big as the river Seine.”

Ducking his head, from the penetrating stare, Porthos mumbled his apologies.

“A bit late for that.” Glancing at his son, Aramis tried to be truthful. “Bonnaire’s former partner wanted revenge for cargo not received. There was an ambush and I got clocked on the back of the head with a chain, as Porthos so eloquently put it.” Adding the latter with a slight huff, Aramis noted d’Artagnan’s eyes widened in distress.

“I’m all better now.” Grinning, he winked at both lads. “Remember hard heads run in the Musketeer family.”

“That’s true.” When all eyes turned his way, Louis smiled gently. “Papa still keeps going on about how thick headed some of his soldiers are. Even the cardinal's men too.” When the inseparables began laughing Louis was surprised, not thinking his words were that amusing.

Covering his mouth with a hand, d'Artagnan didn't dare laugh. He knew why the others had though. His young friend had no idea that Louis hadn't been referring to _hard heads_. Thick between the ears was more like it.

“At least Aramis ain’t speakin’ Spanish any longer,” gruffly added Porthos. When a hard nudge to his ribs from Athos made him scowl, he then realized he had done it again.

“Do I want to know about that as well?” Firing off a glance immediately toward papa Athos, the latter wincing, d’Artagnan waved his question off with a minute hand gesture. “I’ll find out later I suppose.”

Clearing his throat, Rene sidled closer to Athos. “Word has it that Richelieu tied Bonnaire’s hands by having a contract drawn up stating that the explorer can’t use slaves as labor.”

“Slaves?” Brows drawn tightly together, Porthos stared hard at Rene until the younger Musketeer began to squirm.

“What? None of you knew about that part of Bonnaire’s business?” Puzzled how the three men could have traveled so long with the trader and not have known of that, Rene was sorry he had said anything. The rolled up papers he held in his hand was evidence enough upon Bonnaire’s filthy dealings.

“I am to deliver Bonnaire’s plans to Captain Treville for safe keeping but was ordered to pick some other papers up here to take back to the Garrison as well.” When Porthos reached out to snatch the plans out of Rene’s hands he didn’t make any attempt to stop him. Mostly because he valued his life.

Everyone watched while Porthos studied the plans. None of them, except young Louis, were surprised at his outburst.

“ _MERDE! I’M GONNA TEAR THAT MAN APART!_ ” roared Porthos.

“He’s pretty mad, d’Art,” whispered Louis. He had never seen the Musketeer so angry. Porthos was a scary proposition, as he was now. Whomever this Bonnaire fellow was, that the Musketeers had been talking about, Louis was glad not to be in the other man’s shoes.

“Best be out of his way when papa Porthos gets like this.” Placing an arm around his friend, d’Artagnan pulled the boy off to one side just in case. Objects tended to fly about whenever papa’s anger got the best of him.

“You mean he gets like this a lot?” Never having heard d’Artagnan mention this before, Louis felt dismayed for his friend.

“Only when something goes against papa’s better nature,” d’Artagnan winced. “I do believe dealing in slavery would be one of those things.”

“I agree,” murmured Louis softly.

Showing the plans to his brothers, Porthos stabbed a finger at a certain portion. “Look at this one! People packed on the deck like fish at market!” Pausing for breath, he shook his head. “An ‘ere I was envying the man like some dimwit! Stolen labor… stolen lives!” Sadly he cast his eyes d’Artagnan’s way. “I ‘eard stories about those ships as a child. That’s no way to live.”

“And I promised Meunier that justice would be served.” Slapping his chapeau hard against his thigh, Athos exchanged bitter looks with his two friends. "We certainly went through a lot of bother to deliver Bonnaire only to see him cut loose."

Gently removing the crumpled plans from Porthos' grip, Rene still felt badly. "Perhaps in not dealing in the slave trade any longer this would change Bonnaire for the better."

"We shoulda let Meunier have 'is way with 'im when we 'ad the chance." Wishing the trader was right in front of him so Porthos could kick the man's ass clear back to Le Havre, he realized his anger was disturbing the Dauphin. "Apologies, lad."

"Papa has bad days sometimes too." Exchanging a look with d'Artagnan, Louis glanced back at Porthos. "Slavery is very bad. You have a right to your anger."

"And one day I believe you'll be a great ruler for France." Observing the beaming smile the child bestowed upon him, Porthos dipped his head in respect. Feeling hands rubbing up and down his back, he knew Aramis was trying to calm him down. Athos wasn't as tactile as the marksman. It didn't make him feel any better about that son of a bitch but there was nothing he nor anyone could do about it.

"Speak of le diable," murmured Athos.

Spying Bonnaire striding into the palace, seemingly without a care in the world, both Athos and Aramis had to hold Porthos back from outright strangling the explorer.

Upon noting the three Musketeers, Bonnaire's confidence instantly did an about face. Before he could turn tail and run away, a large dark-skinned hand clamped tightly around his arm before Bonnaire could make his escape. Having no choice, he stayed put to face the angry giant.

" _SLAVES!_ " growled Porthos. "Ya left that part out when ya tried ta sweet talk us into joinin' ya in the New World!"

"I dealt in commodities," said Bonnaire with the air of a man that shouldn't have had to defend his work.

"A man isn't a commodity!" Knowing that his friends were hovering near him, in case Porthos decided to wipe the floor with the trader, he released Bonnaire.

"In Africa he is," Bonnaire countered flatly. Since now he would be doing honest work, he felt deserving of a modicum of respect at least. "See here, I expect to be treated better than what you three have shown me thus far." Listening to the soldiers snorting at his words, Bonnaire was tired of the Musketeer's unspoken insults. " _Dignity! A little dignity!_ "

"You do know how ironic that sounds coming from a slave trader." Disgusted with the explorer, Aramis' sour expression spoke volumes.

"Due to the contract I signed with King Louis I am out of the slavery business for good." Feeling he had stated his case, Bonnaire caught Porthos looking at him as if he was the lowest form of life.

Not believing for a second that the trader's spots had miraculously changed, Porthos ground out, "You'd say just about anythin' ta save your skin."

"Of course I would." Staring at Porthos as if he couldn't believe his ears, Bonnaire snickered. "Who wouldn't? But this time tis the truth or else His Majesty would have just cause to have me hung."

"Why do people with small brains have such large mouths attached?" Watching Bonnaire squirm under his heated glare, Athos glanced over at Aramis.

"D'Art," nudging his friend in the side, Louis whispered again, "they really, really don't like him."

"Guess so." Thinking perhaps this man would be able to redeem himself now, especially in his papa's eyes, d'Artagnan turned to them. "Give him a chance at least. He has an opportunity now to turn his life around." Once the words were out of his mouth d'Artagnan couldn't take them back, as his papas stared back at him as if he had gone mad.

Forgetting the Dauphin's presence for a moment, Porthos let loose again. "Stop makin' excuses for nasty people, whelp! Ya can't put a flower in an asshole and call it a vase!"

"I'm glad Porthos is my friend," Louis said. "I'd hate to have him as my enemy." When d'Artagnan treated him to an eyeroll, he grinned.

"Now, gentlemen, I've had my reputation sullied enough. I have another audience with the king shortly and must be off." An abrupt bow to all of them and Bonnaire continued his journey down the long corridors.

Watching the man saunter away, Porthos glanced around their small group. "Ya know the older I get the meaner I become," he huffed. "I'm pretty sure that I'm goin' ta start bitin' people within the next few years."

The two youngsters couldn't contain their laughter at what Porthos had just said. It lightened the mood considerably for everyone. Which was needed by all.

++++

_Later that day_

Not in any hurry to leave the Parisian life quite yet, Bonnaire walked along the city streets. With every lovely lady that walked past him, his interest peaked. Having heard that the women of Paris had a certain glow about them, Bonnaire was discovering that it was true. While contemplating the merits of entertaining some Parisian beauties, thoughts of Maria back in Le Havre were shoved to the back of his mind.

Stepping inside The Wren the smoky atmosphere gave way to an empty table in the far corner of the room. Sitting down, Bonnaire signaled a tavern wench to come over. After having placed an order for two lagers, for his throat felt quite parched, his gaze roamed over the occupants enjoying themselves.

It was only mid-afternoon so Bonnaire wasn’t surprised the tavern was on the quiet side. In fact, the lack of rowdiness enabled him to hear a conversation not far from his table. From what he could make out, apparently the four men were seeking employment. Giving the large pouch, slung over his neck a gentle pat or two, Bonnaire had more than enough coin to not only charter a ship in Le Havre but to begin hiring men to work his plantations.

Finishing his drinks, Bonnaire went over to their table and began conversing with them. Touting the prospects to be had in the New World, and working for him of course, he waxed poetic upon such a life. They were all interested and appeared quite keen to work for him. Having gotten their signatures, Bonnaire set up a meeting time and place where they would all set out for Le Havre in a few days. From there he’d charter a ship and in the meantime try to hire more able bodied men. Taking his leave of them, Bonnaire left the tavern.

The sun was still shining brightly so Bonnaire covered his eyes with one hand to shade them. In doing so, not paying attention to where he was going, he bumped into a solid object. Which turned out to be a youngster that seemed vaguely familiar somehow. “I know tis cliché… but haven’t we met somewhere before?”

“Oui, at the palace earlier.” Wanting to see where the merchant would take this, d’Artagnan stayed where he was.

“Ah, oui,” said Bonnaire pleasantly, “I remember now.” Giving the lad a once over he smiled at the youth. “You were with that petit garcon.”

Evidently Bonnaire hadn't realized that _petit_ had been the Dauphin. Bien d'Artagnan wouldn’t be the one to enlighten the trader, at least not yet.

“You tried to stick up for me.” Placing a hand upon the boy’s arm, he gave it a firm squeeze. “Merci for your kindness towards a stranger.”

Surprised as to why the explorer hadn’t questioned d’Artagnan further upon his presence in the palace, he figured perhaps Bonnaire was so full of himself that nothing else mattered.

“How would you like to follow me around and help me sign up more men to work my tobacco plantations?” The lad hadn’t exactly jumped at the chance to work with him which reminded Bonnaire that a bit of incentive was needed. “There’s good coin in it for you.”

Not needing the money, but wanting Bonnaire to walk the straight and narrow, d’Artagnan agreed. Besides, any coin earned he could easily give to Flea. “For how long?”

“A few days at least. Then I’ll be leaving with the men I’ve hired for Le Havre.” There was still some daylight left to burn so Bonnaire coerced the boy, upping the amount of livres he would give the lad, into helping him. So bent on his objective Bonnaire was oblivious to the fact that he and the boy were being followed, while they continued down the cobbled stone streets. If he had glanced behind him, Bonnaire would have been surprised to discover that the ones shadowing them were the four men he had just hired.

Those men weren’t the only ones with their eyes upon Bonnaire. A pair of startling green ones narrowed upon the explorer. Her path and his had crossed briefly years ago. Milady could have cared less about that womanizer. She had seen the trader in action before and had pitied his wife Maria for being shackled to him. He was a pompous ass, in her estimation. D’Artagnan, however, was a different kettle of fish. The boy was a friend of sorts to her. Not wanting to see the young Gascon come to any harm, Milady carefully began to dog their footsteps.

++++

_Notes:_

_Le Diable_ \- the devil

 _Quote: "Why do people with small brains have such large mouths attached?"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Stop making excuses for nasty people. You can't put a flower in an asshole and call it a vase!"_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "You know the older I get the meaner I become. I'm pretty sure that I'm going to start biting people within the next few years."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, place and time_

Casually walking down the streets, every so often Bonnaire would stop a few men he noted would fill the bill nicely for the type of work he needed. The boy would then write down names for him in a ledger Bonnaire had given the lad. Setting up times and a meeting place where they would all leave together, he thanked them and went on his merry way once more. Staring at the youngster’s slightly amused expression, Bonnaire’s brows drew together. “I can’t keep calling you _lad_ forever. What’s your name?”

“D’Artagnan, Monsieur.”

“Mmmmm,” humming, Bonnaire nodded his head. “A strong sounding name.” Eyeing the youth he added, “Would you care to join me in the New World too?”

“Non. I have a life here in Paris with my famille and good friends.” Waiting for the trader to ask about his parents next d’Artagnan knew it would have to wait, when Bonnaire stopped to speak with other potential prospects.

++++

“How do you want to do this?” questioned Jean-Paul anxiously.

“We all know that pouch of Bonnaire’s contains enough coin to set us up in style.” Eager to get his hands upon the money, trading looks with Byron, Douay didn’t care how they got the job done.

“Tolbert, get our horses and meet us at the usual place.” Watching his friend head for the stable Byron continued his pursuit of the explorer, along with Douay and Jean-Paul.

++++

Making up the other party shadowing Bonnaire and d’Artagnan, Milady made herself as inconspicuous as possible blending in with the crowds of Parisians either shopping or selling their wares in the marketplace. She was curious as to why the boy was tagging along with that ass. Amusement touched her red lips making them twitch. Her comparison wasn’t in the least fair to those poor, overworked animals.

Minutes turned into a few hours. Bored didn’t even begin to cover how she felt. It seemed that the trader was talking up a storm with the locals. Mostly men. The fairer sex Bonnaire flirted with outrageously. Once again she found herself pitying Maria though the other woman could well take care of herself in any given situation, having been the explorer’s scout on many excursions. Maria was just unfortunate in her choice of partner.

So focused was she on Bonnaire’s activities, and her young friend, Milady nearly missed the three hulking brutes that appeared to be trailing the pair. Her first thought was that she had been mistaken. But every time the trader stopped to speak with anyone so did those men. Half of her wanted to go find Athos and the other half screamed at her to stay the course. Quickly making up her mind, she'd face her ex-husband’s anger later, Milady pressed on.

++++

“I think that wraps it up for today, d’Artagnan.” Taking the ledger from the boy, Bonnaire gave it a quick once over. “A fine start.”

“When and where should I meet up with you on the morrow?” Pleased at what they had accomplished thus far, d’Artagnan was now eager to go home. Of course he wouldn’t say a word to his papas about helping the trader or else papa Porthos would explode for certain. Mildly shuddering at the memory of how angry papa had gotten upon discovering Bonnaire’s real trade, d’Artagnan was glad that anger had never turned toward him. However his return home wasn’t to be, when sounds of pistols being cocked from behind caught his and the trader's attention. Cautiously they both turned around.

Laughing in relief, Bonnaire recognized the newly hired men from the tavern. “Gentlemen, what could I do for you?”

“Follow us and keep your mouth shut!” snarled Byron. “No funny business now. Just keep walking normal like nothing’s wrong.”

“Messieurs, could we not talk about this in a more civilized manner?” Channeling papa Aramis’ approach, when confronted with angry citizens, hadn’t helped their situation much. Stepping backward a pace or two, when the meaner looking of the three brandished a weapon in d’Artagnan’s face, he shared a helpless look with the shocked Bonnaire. “Apparently not.”

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ” exclaimed Milady, gaining unwanted attention from two women selling from their stalls. For once she had gone out without any weapons upon her person. Cursing herself for doing so, she would have to devise a different way to rescue them. Bonnaire’s life meant less than nothing to her, but if d’Artagnan were to be injured she would take it very personally. The trader wouldn’t have to worry about meeting his end at the hands of others, if something untoward happened to the boy, Milady would take care of him herself and relish doing so.

++++

Having been herded behind one of the many mercantile businesses in Paris, Bonnaire observed someone else approaching. It appeared to be the fourth one he had hired. The man came riding up to them, with three other horses tethered behind him.

Shoving Bonnaire hard in the back with his pistol, Byron’s harsh breath breathed down the explorer’s neck. “Get up behind Tolbert.”

“Boy,” motioning with his pistol, Byron got his point across to the kid, “you’re on Douay’s horse.”

“Leave the lad here. He had nothing to do with this.” There was no sense involving d’Artagnan any further. This had to be a first for him, concerning himself about someone else’s skin. Hoping they’d heed his plea, Bonnaire was doomed to disappointment when Byron simply sneered at him. Guess that was all the answer he was likely to get. Giving in, he mounted behind Tolbert. But the apparent leader of the foursome did have something to say after all.

“Leave a witness behind to go tattle to the Musketeers.” Gruff laughter escaped Byron. “How stupid do you think we are, Bonnaire?” Once the boy was mounted, he signaled the others to move out.

++++

_Outskirts of Paris_

Traveling a short distance away from the city, the voleurs came to a halt near a heavily wooded section. It gave them enough protection from curious eyes, as well as being far enough away from the Garrison to not attract the attention of any soldiers.

“I believe this is a good enough place to relieve you of your money, Monsieur Bonnaire.” Dragging the trader from the horse, Byron ripped the leather pouch away from around the other man’s neck hard enough to leave a red mark across the explorer's skin. Feeling the weight of the coins through the pouch, he grinned. “This will go a long way.” Glancing at his comrades, Byron held up their prize. “We didn’t even have to work for it.”

“Easiest money we’ve ever made,” agreed Jean-Paul.

Observing the boy getting off Douay’s horse, something nagged at the back of Byron’s mind. Kid seemed familiar somehow. Intent upon his goal, he hadn’t paid all that much attention to the lad. It was going to continue bothering him, until Byron remembered where he’d seen the youngster before. Pulling Tolbert to the side, he asked his friend about the kid.

Studying the boy, Tolbert cocked his head at an angle. “Mmmmm, let me think.” When Byron’s hand smacked him upon the back of his head, Tolbert scowled.

“You don’t have time to think!” snapped Byron.

“ _Oh merde!_ ”

Tolbert’s sudden exclamation did nothing for Byron’s mood. “What?”

“The Garrison,” shakily whispered Tolbert. “I remember him from when I ran an errand for Monsieur Dubois several weeks back.”

“What was the kid doing there?” Rubbing his chin, Byron thought that perhaps the boy could be ransomed if it proved profitable.

“You’re not going to like what I’m going to say, Byron.”

Taking a fist full of Tolbert’s jacket, Byron began to shake the man. “Spit it out!”

“The inseparables! He’s their son!”

All the voleurs turned eyes upon the youngster. At first they appeared scared because of the lad's connection to the soldiers then greed took over, as an opportunity to good to pass up landed in their laps. The one pair of eyes totally stunned at this news belonged to Bonnaire who stood speechless beside d’Artagnan.

Gathering his wits about him, Bonnaire stared hard at the youthful face. Swallowing thickly, he managed to croak, “Which one of them is your pére?”

Not wanting to give the explorer a heart attack d’Artagnan drawled out very slowly, holding a finger up at each name mentioned. “ _Athos._ ” Noting relief flood Bonnaire’s features upon his announcement, d’Artagnan knew it wouldn't last for long. He was right because it soon faded from the trader's eyes upon the next name he mentioned. “ _Aramis._ ”

Immediately his hand whipped up in the air to stop the boy from saying something Bonnaire wasn’t ready to hear yet, the other pinched the bridge of his nose. Grimacing, he spread out both arms in supplication. “Go on, lad… tighten the noose around my neck.”

“ _Porthos._ ” Noting the trader’s head hang down in defeat, chin bouncing a few times against the older man’s chest, d’Artagnan began to feel pity for him. He already knew how upset papa Porthos had been with Bonnaire and this would only stoke the flames further.

“I couldn’t have planned this better if I had tried.” Clapping his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation of more coin to flow through his fingers, Byron’s eyes shifted toward the young Gascon. “We get Bonnaire’s money and ransom the kid all in one go!”

"Two birds with one stone," agreed Douay.

Sitting atop what remained of a rotted out log, d’Artagnan and Bonnaire listened while the four voleurs plotted out their nefarious plans for them.

“D’Artagnan, I don’t know how you came to have four péres but they’re all going to kill me,” muttered Bonnaire from the side of his mouth.

From the tree-lined area behind them a feminine voice quietly hissed, “Not if your hired thugs do the job first and save the rest of us the trouble.”

Startled, Bonnaire glanced over his shoulder. A nudge from the boy told him that wasn’t a good idea. So he pretended as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Having somehow managed to acquire a pistol and poignard from one of the voleur's saddlebags, without being seen, Milady felt more confident with her rescue plans. Keeping her voice low and steady, she gave the boy and trader instructions. "Slowly, without drawing attention, get up and ease yourselves behind the trees while your captors are busy. Just follow my voice."

"A lovely seductive one it is too." After stating his admiration, a quelling look from the child told Bonnaire that this definitely wasn't the time nor place for light flirtations. Alas, the lad was quite right upon that score. What good was flirting when one could end up with a ball right between the eyes? Evidently the woman coming to their aid felt the same and expressed herself most eloquently.

"Shut up, Bonnaire! I'm more than immune to your not so fatal charms." Growing impatient, Milady just wanted to get them all out of there without blood being shed... mainly their own. Two horses she had borrowed were becoming quite skittish and hard to handle. Her worry grew that they would break free from her hold and then they'd all be left having to get away on foot.

Finally d'Artagnan and Bonnaire carefully made their way to Milady's position. Amazed that their kidnappers hadn't noted their escape yet, d'Artagnan remembered something papa Athos once told him. Papa had said that greed could blind you to most anything. In fact the four men had been busy discussing how to deliver the ransom note to the Garrison, while d'Artagnan and the trader disappeared in the brush.

When the pair joined her, Milady pushed the reins of one horse into the explorer's hands. Mounting her own, she waved for the boy to climb up behind her. "Wonder how long it's going to take those fools to discover neither of you are their captives any longer." Urging her mount to pick up speed her lips turned up in the corners. "Greed makes you do many things and in some cases, like theirs, blinds you to other matters."

"That's pretty close to what papa Athos told me too, Milady."

"Normally I'd say that Athos was a wise man," she chuckled. "Then again I used to be married to him and know better."

Finding out that this woman, Milady as d'Artagnan called her, was Athos' ex-wife made Bonnaire a tad nervous. Then again what could she do to him after all? "You mention greed as if you were well acquainted with that vice, Madame."

Wanting to ignore the man but giving into her anger, Milady's green eyes took on a wicked cast. Voice dripping venom she snapped, "You're a very selfish person, Bonnaire! Concentrating purely upon your own benefits and to hell with the consequences for any innocents in your path!"

Placing a hand over his heart, Bonnaire frowned. "I expect the _innocent_ in question is the boy here?" Mulling over this beautiful creature's words, he had an uncomfortable feeling that they had known one another before. Oh non. Not in the carnal way. It was something else. If only he could remember. Almost afraid to ask but if he didn't Bonnaire would never have his answer. "I have the feeling you and I have some sort of history." Silence met his question. Huffing, he tried again. "Haven't we met somewhere before?"

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan threw an ironic look at Bonnaire. "You asked me that too. Out of original material are we?" His arms around Milady's waist tightened, when the horse stumbled slightly on some rocks. When her body began to shake, at first d'Artagnan thought something was wrong. Then he realized her reaction came from amusement and Milady was laughing.

"Non. Really," insisted Bonnaire. "I honestly believe I've met our charming companion before." Still greatly perplexed himself, he hoped she would shed some light upon the matter.

"I know Maria... your _wife_." Arching a delicate brow, Milady stabbed him with an icy look. "You remember her, surely?"

Clearing his throat several times, Bonnaire stiffly nodded his head. Clearly she was on Maria's side. It behooved him to remain silent, upon the status of his marriage.

Knowing she had taken the wind from the explorer's sails, Milady grinned. "Tell me how I have upset you, because I want to know how to do it again?" She enjoyed watching Bonnaire's jaws clamp shut tight. Feeling d'Artagnan's amused puffs of breath against her neck, Milady didn't have time to bask in the moment because sounds of pounding hooves against the earth reached her ears.

Guiding their mounts deeper within the forest, the trio prayed to remain unseen. But one of them grew impatient.

Digging his heels into the sides of his horse, Bonnaire urged his mount to go much faster.

"That idiot's going to get us all killed!" Furious, Milady swore silently to herself. There was nothing for it but to follow the man. While chasing after Bonnaire, she was confident that they had now lost the voleurs. Following the path of broken twigs and branches upon the dirt, Milady was brought up short by the comical scene that greeted her and d'Artagnan.

" _Come on! Come on! Come on you useless nag!_ " His horse wouldn't budge a hoof further. " _Pour l'amour de Dieu!_ " Not understanding what was wrong with his mount, Bonnaire grew even more concerned when he realized that he wasn't alone anymore. Relief filled him though when it turned out to be Milady and the lad. Oh she wasn't happy with him at all. To tell you the truth Bonnaire couldn't really blame her. Waiting for her to yell at him, instead it was d'Artagnan that spoke up.

"Tis a classic mistake." Pointing to the trader's tired mount, d'Artagnan grinned. "A horse can gallop for two miles at most." Making a circular motion with his finger, he pressed his point home. "If you had kept her at a nice even canter you might have had better luck at getting away."

"D'Artagnan was the son of a farmer until the age of three," ungraciously offered Milady.

"That's when papa had been murdered and later I was adopted." Shrugging off the dark memory, d'Artagnan's gaze locked with the older man's. "Even though I was only a petit I remember how papa was with our horses and the things he began to teach me."

"Oui, I s'pose if I were a farm boy I'd know that sort of thing too." Sighing, Bonnaire again tugged at his reins.

Sliding from the saddle d'Artagnan motioned for Bonnaire to get off the horse. "Give me a moment with her then she'll be ready to travel again." Five minutes later, good as his word, the horse was in better shape than the trader.

Disgruntled at losing all that money Cardinal Richelieu had given him, Bonnaire found himself back upon his mount feeling sorry for himself. "How I wonder do I tell His Eminence about this theft?"

"If I were you I'd be more concerned how you're going to explain putting d'Artagnan's life in jeopardy to the inseparables." Score one for Milady, noting how her words affected the idiot. She received great satisfaction, upon watching all the color leech from Bonnaire's face.

"You're quite outspoken," grumbled Bonnaire not looking forward to the coming confrontation with the three Musketeers.

"Speaking my mind is easy. Speaking it tactfully," shrugging lightly, a tinkle of laughter escaped her, "not so much." Catching an unkind word slipping past Bonnaire's lips, Milady aimed her pistol at the trader's chest. "Oui, of course I get called a _bitch_. What I don't get called is a doormat, pushover, weak or stupid." Knowing the last word was hers, Milady kept up the pace back to Paris with the meek explorer silently following behind.

++++

_After five p.m. - Paris_

Getting his nerve up, Bonnaire offered Milady his apologies. That was if she'd accept them.

"Saying sorry never fixed anything!" Her tone sharp, Milady added, "You could try just not being an asshole instead."

About to intervene before there was bloodshed d'Artagnan heard someone calling him. Twisting around around he spied Constance across the street waving at him. Slipping from the saddle d'Artagnan ran over to her.

"Everyone's been looking for you." Giving the lad a swift once over, it appeared her young friend was in one piece. It pleased her that he had nary a scratch upon him. What the boy had been doing in Milady's company, however, left her with many unasked questions. Not recognizing the gentleman with them Constance ignored him until the stranger spoke to d'Artagnan.

"D'Artagnan, you do seem to know the most beautiful women Paris has to offer." Both the child and Milady scowled back at him. Grinning sheepishly, Bonnaire dipped his head toward the titian haired angel.

"One track mind." Huffing her disgust, Milady dismounted glancing over at Constance. "Don't pay this numbskull any heed."

Which Constance hadn't planned upon doing anyway. More concerned as to where d'Artagnan had been was of greater import. Quickly the lad explained to her what had transpired. When he finished, she waited as Monsieur Bonnaire too dismounted. Stepping into the man's space Constance drew back her hand and delivered an almighty slap to his left cheek. In the background she heard Milady's whoop of delight and d'Artagnan's groan of embarrassment. Shaking out her stinging hand, Constance winked at Milady.

Rubbing the soreness away, Bonnaire didn't quite know what had hit him. Bien, rather he knew. He just couldn't believe the power that young woman's dainty hand could wield.

"Usually papa Aramis is her target." D'Artagnan shook his head at Constance. "Or so I've been told."

Holding out her hand to the other woman to shake, Milady's green eyes sparkled. "Women have to stick together. We don't want men to get delusions of grandeur thinking they're better than us."

"Merci for getting d'Art back to us unharmed." Wrapping her arm around the boy, Constance wasn't going to let him out of her sight now that she had him. Giving the youngster a slight shake she murmured in his ear until he began blushing. "This is what happens whenever you try to do a good deed."

On the verge of arguing that point with her, d'Artagnan's tongue stilled upon catching sight of three angry Musketeers charging toward them.

++++

_Notes:_

_Famille_ – family  
_Voleurs_ \- thieves  
_Pour l'amour de Dieu_ \- for the love of God

 _Quote: "Tell me how I have upset you, because I want to know how to do it again?"_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "Speaking my mind is easy. Speaking it tactfully not so much."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Yes, of course I get called a bitch. What I don't get called is a doormat, pushover, weak or stupid."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Saying sorry never fixed anything. You could try just not being an asshole instead."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit later than usual for me. Been busy with a huge fall fundraiser for the library where I work. Plus I've done a couple of Stargate SG-1 Little Danny stories for my Yahoo writing groups and posted them here on Archive as well.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Last seen… three furious Musketeers charging down the street_

“ _Runt!_ ” bellowed Porthos. “ _Ya gotta lot of explainin’ ta do!_ ”

“Oui,” agreed Athos. “Do tell us why we have been tearing Paris apart?”

Removing his chapeau, Aramis swiped a hand over his brow. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His look said it for all three of them.

Facing them down, d’Artagnan explained everything to them. Papa Porthos’ face resembled a thundercloud ready to burst open over the city. Papa Aramis crossed himself and papa Athos… bien, on a good day d’Artagnan could read the older man’s emotions without any trouble. Today wasn’t one of those days. Unreadable blue eyes stared into his own, making d’Artagnan squirm where he stood.

For Bonnaire’s part, he noted the looks on the inseparable’s faces and wanted to make a beeline out of Paris as fast as humanly possible. That wasn’t to be however. Finding himself on the ground, holding his bloody nose, Bonnaire stared up into the dark-skinned Musketeer’s angry face. “I think I’ll just stay where I am for the moment if you don’t mind.” Feeling himself bodily picked up off the street, held up in the air, Bonnaire winced. “Apparently you do.”

“Porthos.” Laying a hand upon his brother’s shoulder, Athos gave it a few gentle pats. “Put him down.”

“Why?” growled Porthos. “Give me one good reason.”

Observing the dangling trader's feet kicking out searching for purchase, Athos' eyes locked onto the darker ones of his friend. Slowly his smile grew. “Tis my turn next.”

“Why didn’t ya say so in the first place?” Roughly handling the explorer, Porthos placed Bonnaire back on his unsteady feet.

Swaying into Aramis, Bonnaire felt himself pushed forward toward Athos. Noting the fist the older Musketeer made, he prepared himself for impact.

“ _Papa… Non!_ ” Stepping in front of the trader, d’Artagnan was an immovable object. “It wasn’t his fault. Any of it.”

“Not from where I was standing,” murmured Milady with mild amusement. As far as she was concerned, Bonnaire deserved everything that was coming his way.

Stabbing the woman with an irritated look, d’Artagnan rolled his eyes. “Monsieur Bonnaire hired those men to work the plantations. How was he to know they wanted to rob him?”

“How did you come to be kidnapped?” Not happy that his son had been placed in danger again, and by a slave trader to boot, Aramis waited for a reasonable response. He needed one or else Bonnaire would find himself on the unhappy end of Aramis’ pistols.

“They took me because I was a witness.” That probably didn’t help the explorer’s cause any more than d’Artagnan’s, judging by the frowns that resulted. “I don’t believe they were going to harm me. Just get me out of the way long enough for them to escape without me running for help.”

“Tell them what happened next.” Prodding the boy to continue, Milady smirked.

Giving her the stink eye, d'Artagnan huffed but did press on. “A couple of them recognized me and realized I was the son of the inseparables…” Voice trailing away, d’Artagnan couldn’t look at his distressed famille in the eyes.

“Ransom.” Having already removed his chapeau, Athos ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

“Careful,” whispered Aramis. “It may all fall out soon.”

“Was that meant as a jest?” Not in the mood, Athos glowered at his brother. "Twas not funny."

Rubbing his chin, a delightful twinkle entered Aramis' eyes. "I found it so." Considering the fright they had all had, he was trying to find amusement wherever he could. Still wanting nothing more than to shoot Bonnaire, Aramis could see that the lad was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The feeling was an all too familiar one for himself but one that kept dogging d’Artagnan’s footsteps.

Holding back from decorating Bonnaire’s face with his fists, Athos caught the familiar sparkle of green eyes. She was daring him to do it. Not wanting to be responsible for actions caused by another, Athos glared at her.

Not being stupid, Constance intercepted the looks between Milady and Athos. Huffing, she said, “You’re supposed to be a gentleman, Athos. All of a sudden you've forgotten your manners." Pointing toward Milady, still keeping her eyes upon the sullen Musketeer, Constance waited. When Athos still hadn't said anything, she figured spelling it out to him was called for. "Thank the lady for saving your son’s life.” Arching a brow of her own, she stared him down. "Again I may add." When the older man sent her a look that meant he had thought Constance finally had lost her wits, her foot itched to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine. “Anyone who does anything to help a child in his life is a hero to me.” Ah, that got to Athos. She could tell, by the way the man straightened up to his full height as if standing to attention in front of Captain Treville.

“My thanks, Constance.” Dipping her head to the younger woman for standing up for her, Milady felt that perhaps she made a new friend or at best an ally.

Feeling as if his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, Athos relented. “Merci, Anne.”

“Don’t choke on your words on my account, Athos.” Turning away from him, Milady missed the hot-eyed glare he gave her.

Dismissing his ex-wife from his mind, for the moment, Athos quickly conversed with his brothers. Having made the decision not to dismember the trader, and having not found any injuries upon d’Artagnan, he turned his attention back upon the shaking Bonnaire. His lips quirked, observing Aramis with the trader. It was quite amusing.

Rapping a knuckle or two upon the explorer’s temple, Aramis snarked. “Why didn’t you have the goodly sense to place your moneybag somewhere safe instead of parading it about the city for all and sundry to note?”

“You were just askin' for trouble," growled Porthos. He wished they weren't all out in the open like this. Bonnaire could do with a makeover. One that he would love to give the explorer.

Of two minds whether or not to haul Bonnaire’s sorry ass to the Bastille or leave the man be, Athos held a silent conversation with his brothers. He believed all of them were on the same page. They had to get rid of Bonnaire. None of them trusted the man to keep to the bargain he had made with the cardinal either. Resulting in the trader returning to the slavery business.

Staring Athos down, a perturbed Aramis pulled out one of his pistols. “Why can’t I shoot him now?”

Stepping toward his friend Athos reached out to remove the pistol and place it back in Aramis’ weapons belt. “Because I said so.”

“ _Hmmpf!_ ” Aramis was not pleased. Eyeing the trader as if the man were a lowly insect, his one brow shot up. “Consider yourself extremely lucky, Monsieur.”

“I… I do dooo,” stuttered Bonnaire, his eyes bounced from one soldier to the other.

“Don’t you need to see Cardinal Richelieu?” Getting Bonnaire away from his famille seemed a good idea to d’Artagnan.

“Of course. Of course.” Glancing around at all the unfriendly faces, Bonnaire dared not ask any of them for transportation to the Palais-Cardinal. Spying a man driving a wagon down the street, he ran over to him in hopes the stranger would take him to see His Eminence.

Watching Bonnaire’s speedy departure, the inseparables shared a long look with each other.

“We really ‘ave ta get rid of that one.” It was either that or Porthos would end up killing Bonnaire with his own bare hands.

“Perdón, señores.” A dark clad figure squeezed himself in-between the inseparables. “I believe I may be of some help regarding your dilemma.”

++++

Shortly after the stranger showed up, the inseparables agreed to speak with the mystery man. They had told Constance to make sure d'Artagnan got home safely, while also bidding Milady au revoir.

All of the men then went inside The Wren. Finding a spot, where their conversation would remain relatively private, the discussion began.

“I am known as Leon." Looking around at the group of hardened soldiers, he shrugged lightly. "Last names are unimportant.” Sitting back in his chair, he listened while the Musketeers introduced themselves. “My comrade has set up camp in the forest. We deemed it safer for only one of us to enter the city.” Having the grace to blush slightly, Leon admitted something to them. “We were the ones following you once Bonnaire left Le Havre.”

So the dark-eyed, dark-haired stranger turned out to be one of the men that had initially been chasing them once they left the port. Discovering that Leon and his colleague were in fact Spanish emissaries on a mission for King Philip, Athos thought all of this very intriguing. Also something that could cause a war to break out between France and Spain, if it were ever to find its way to the Louvre. 

“So why were ya chasin’ that rat scum?” Uneasy, Porthos didn’t fully trust the Spaniard. Then again if the man was capable of seeing that the trader got what he deserved, Porthos was all for it.

“King Philip was most displeased over Señor Bonnaire’s activities and that they would bring harm to Spain. He wanted the man stopped at any cost.” Letting his words wash over the soldiers, Leon’s fingers drummed on top of the table. “We had orders to make sure Bonnaire didn’t escape en route or to shoot him if he did.”

“Shame that didn’t work,” griped Porthos, earning him identical looks of sympathy from his brothers.

“We weren’t pleased ourselves to later discover Bonnaire dealt in the filthy business of slavery,” said Aramis, disgust dripped like acid with every word uttered.

“Added to that,” dryly interjected Athos, “even unintentionally he got our son entangled in a kidnapping plot.” Wondering how Leon expected to help them, Athos waited to hear the Spaniard out.

“May I ask how that had come about?” It appeared that the trader caused upset wherever he went thought Leon. Listening to what Athos knew, from what the Musketeer’s son had told the soldier, Leon was curious. “What then happened to the ladrones after that?”

“We don’t know and personally at this point I don’t care,” snorted Porthos. “D’Art’s back and unharmed, Bonnaire lost King Louis’ money… so I’m ‘appy.”

“I care.” Raising a brow upon his friend’s words, Athos frowned. “Not that His Majesty’s money has now slipped through Bonnaire’s fingers,” he smiled tightly at this, “but rather I would see those voleurs put in the Bastille for taking our son.”

“I doubt they hung around waiting for us to capture them after realizing their victims had flown the coop.” Pointing that out, Aramis’ anger grew again just thinking about the danger the explorer had put their child in. Even if Bonnaire didn’t do it on purpose.

Rehashing over all of this was not getting them anywhere. Impatient, Athos demanded Leon tell them what he and his brothers wanted to know. “What is your plan for getting rid of our mutual headache permanently?” While the Spaniard explained his idea, Athos had one of his own and knew they could both work in everyone’s favor. He was beginning to feel better by the minute. Together, along with their new ally, they devised a workable plan.

++++

_Early evening – Palais-Cardinal_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, staring at the top of his mahogany desk, Richelieu deeply sighed. It was either that or knock Bonnaire flat upon his ass. “You were kidnapped and then robbed?”

“And they planned on ransoming that young Gascon that was with me too,” timidly added Bonnaire. Upon saying that, he was taken aback at the furious look His Eminence turned upon him. When the cardinal slammed both hands down hard upon the desk, Bonnaire jumped back heart thumping madly.

“You are most fortunate that the boy wasn’t harmed!” His sharp words, no doubt accompanied by the rage upon his face, resulted in the explorer’s features turning quite pale. Composing himself, Richelieu took a calming breath. “D’Art is special to myself and to Their Majestys.”

Feeling that fate was conspiring to dig Bonnaire’s grave for him, he swallowed the huge lump building in his throat. “I didn’t know that,” he croaked.

“How would you have?” Studying the other man, Richelieu’s eyes narrowed. “What amazes me is that out of all the children within the city you ended up with d’Artagnan.”

A light shrug, followed by a weak grimace, Bonnaire mumbled, “Bad karma.”

“If I were you I’d sleep with one eye open,” Richelieu snapped. “Karma isn’t coming for you if anything else untoward happens to that boy … _I AM!_ ”

While waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to calm once more, Bonnaire wondered perhaps if the agreement between them was now null and void.

“How I’m to explain this to King Louis I don’t know. His Majesty is going to be most distressed over this news." Briefly closing his eyes, Richelieu thought upon the coming tantrum he was certain his monarch would treat him to. "But I will try to convince him to lend you more coin as your venture promises to invigorate our country's economy."

“I’m very grateful for your understanding, Your Eminence.” Respectfully dipping his head, Bonnaire let out a long breath.

“As well you should.” Getting up from his chair, moving around his desk, Richelieu went to retrieve his cape.

“What should I do while you are at the Royal Palace?” Nervously , Bonnaire crinkled his chapeau between both hands.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ” Swirling around Richelieu stabbed the hapless explorer with a look that would have sent his Red Guard’s running in all directions. “Wait here of course! You’re too dangerous to be left to your own devises!” Donning his cape, Richelieu marched through the open doors to his office slamming them closed behind him so hard that the floor shook. Hopefully underneath the trader's feet.

Collapsing into the nearest chair, beads of sweat dotted Bonnaire's forehead. Comparing the cardinal's anger against the inseparable's he didn't known which had been worse but he had gained a reprieve at least and wasn't going to squander it. Once the king agreed to let His Eminence dig into the coffers again, Bonnaire resolved to leave Paris at the earliest opportunity.

++++

_Next day, early morn - Garrison_

Leading their horses out of the stable the inseparables mounted up and rode past the gates, heading for the Louvre. Apparently His Majesty didn't want Bonnaire to risk losing the funds the trader had been given once more and felt it was safer for the man to remain at the palace until his departure.

"You're all delightfully cheerful this morn." Having been supplied a horse, Bonnaire was ready to depart.

"Could be because we're gettin' rid of ya." Sharing an amused look with his brothers, Porthos grinned at the man.

Smile slipping from his face Bonnaire decided, against his better judgement, not to respond to the swarthy-skinned Musketeer's words. He always seemed to rub them all up the wrong way.

Yawning, Aramis shook his head to stay awake. He hadn't slept very well and now it was catching up to him.

"Not a morning person, Aramis?" questioned Bonnaire, feeling that out of the three soldiers this one could be fairly reasonable to speak with. Bien, then again, Aramis had threatened to shoot him.

"Mmmmm," hummed Aramis pleasantly. "My idea of a good morning is one where I open my eyes, take a deep breath," which he did for affect, "then go back to sleep." Rich laughter from his friends surrounded him.

Laughing along with them, Bonnaire thought that perhaps the journey to Le Havre wouldn't be so bad after all.

++++

_Four days later, early evening - Le Havre_

_Back at Le Repaire Du Contrebandier_

"Thank you." Holding up a drink in his hand, Bonnaire laughed. "Thank you for a safe arrival and watching over me as I chartered a ship."

"Twas our job," murmured Athos. Nursing a whiskey, his sharp eyes roamed the room. It was then that he caught sight of a familiar figure. Waiting for the signal, Athos quickly finished his drink.

Suddenly Bonnaire found himself facing his former business partner. A very angry former one along with Paul's men that had surrounded their table.

"Did you think I was letting you get away so easily?" spat Paul. "Once I found out you didn't end up in the Bastille I bided my time." 

"Can't we talk about this like gentlemen, Paul?" Having the inseparables for protection, Bonnaire felt emboldened. "Come sit down and have a drink on me."

Instead of doing so, Paul pulled out a pistol as did his men.

Pushing back his chair Athos stood up, one hand on the hilt of his rapier and the other getting ready to pull out a pistol. "Attack Bonnaire and you attack the king!" It didn't appear Meunier's men cared, as fighting then broke out. To Aramis, he yelled out through the din, " _Take Bonnaire!_ " Glancing at the trader, Athos shouted, " _The ship you hired will be waiting for you in the harbor!_ "

Shoving Bonnaire in the back to get the explorer moving, Aramis spirited the man away.

++++

Standing at the dock, Aramis glanced over his shoulder to make sure they hadn't been followed. Eyes resting upon Bonnaire he said, "The captain will see you on board now."

Walking up the gangplank, feet set firmly on the deck now, Bonnaire removed his chapeau and bowed. "Do drop in anytime you're near the Caribbean. I'm sure to be home." Observing Aramis slipping away through the night, Bonnaire was extremely pleased to have escaped Paul's wrath. It was then that a voice in the dark called out to him, in a thick Spanish accent.

"Welcome, Monsieur Bonnaire. So good of you to join us." Smirking, Leon couldn't believe how well everything turned out thanks to those three Musketeers. "You won't be able to break the laws of both our countries ever again."

"Couldn't we talk about this over drinks?"

++++

_And we're back again at Le Repaire Du Contrebandier_

Sitting around a large table, the inseparables and Meunier enjoyed several lagers.

Dangling a key in the air Athos handed it off to Meunier. "The key to Bonnaire's warehouse. Everything in it is rightfully yours." Smiling, he was glad this was all over. "If I were you I would move it before the cardinal takes an inventory." Shaking a finger at the other man, Athos tacked on, "No one must ever know of this. Technically we are both guilty of treason."

Pleased at how everything worked out for him, Meunier returned the Musketeer's smile. "My lips are sealed." Departing, he saluted them.

"Even though we consider Cardinal Richelieu a friend now, the man sometimes turns a blind eye to distasteful things if it profits our country." Studying his empty glass, Athos slowly lifted his head up. Catching serious expressions upon the faces of his friends he winced. "I feel badly for doing this behind His Eminence's back."

"And the king's," reminded Aramis.

"My thanks for telling me something I do not already know." Scowling at his brother, Athos raised a brow at Porthos. "Do you have something to add?"

"Me?" Shaking his head, Porthos held up his hands. "Non. I'm good. Just glad that scum bag's gonna get 'is."

"I believe we were in the right to do this," stated Athos. "Bonnaire should pay for his crimes."

"Oui." Nodding his head, agreeing with his older brother, Aramis added, "And before he involved d'Art in anymore of his shenanigans."

"I admit, mon ami, that part motivated me to push onward with our entrapment of Bonnaire." Signaling the barkeep, Athos ordered another drink.

Leaning back in his chair, long legs stretched out resting upon the tabletop, Aramis chirped, "Bon voyage, Bonnaire! May your time in a Spanish prison be long and uneventful."

Slapping his hand upon the table, Porthos laughed. "Let's see 'im adapt to those circumstances."

"If only all wrongs were so easily corrected." Thinking upon his own past, with regards to Anne, Athos clinked his glass against his brothers as they celebrated.

++++

_Notes:_

_Famille_ – family  
_Voleurs_ \- thieves  
_Le Repaire Du Contrebandier_ \- the tavern's name roughly means: The Lair of the Smuggler  
_Bon Voyage_ \- wishing a person a good/safe journey

Spanish translation:  
_Perdón_ – excuse me  
_Señores_ – plural form of Mr. / señore – singular form of Mr.  
_Ladrones_ \- thieves

  
_Quote: “Anyone who does anything to help a child in his life is a hero to me.”_ – from Fred Rogers. Fred McFeely Rogers (March 20, 1928 – February 27, 2003) was an American television personality, musician, puppeteer, writer, producer, and Presbyterian minister. He was known as the creator, composer, producer, head writer, showrunner and host of the preschool television series Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (1968–2001). The show featured Rogers's kind, neighborly, avuncular persona,[1] which nurtured his connection to the audience.

  
_Quote: “If I were you I’d sleep with one eye open. Karma isn’t coming for you… I AM!”_ – from Aunty Acid.

  
_Quote: "My idea of a good morning is one where I open my eyes, take a deep breath... then go back to sleep."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so another escapade begins…
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Royal Palace_

The soiree was well attended by most of the higher echelon of society, along with minor nobles in the area. Musketeers were spread throughout the Louvre and, of course, the main ball room as well. A beautiful woman passed by Athos, giving the man a sideways glance to which he was unaware.

She thought him very attractive, in a moody sort of way. However, now was not the time for dalliances. Ninon thought that His Majesty might frown upon such interaction, even though she couldn’t have cared a fig what King Louis wanted. But decorum was called upon… for the moment.

A nudge to his ribs made Athos twisted his head to the right. “Aramis?”

“That one likes you.” His dark eyes had followed the lovely Comtesse the minute she had entered the ballroom. “Mind you know she can’t compare to my Constance.”

“Naturally,” came the dry retort. “And to the other... Comtesses do not bother themselves with lowly Musketeers.”

“You’re Captain Treville’s lieutenant,” countered Aramis. “A step above the rung of being considered _low_.”

“ _Lowly_ enough.” Scanning the area for any signs of problems arising, Athos was pleased that so far all had been running smoothly. Allowing himself to relax his guard slightly, he actually accepted an appetizer from one of the palace staff that offered it to him.  When Athos had finished he noted two familiar figures, upon one of the lower balconies overlooking the room, waving at him. 

“They got the best view, eh?” Waving back to the youngsters, Porthos grinned.

“As long as they stay put and far away from trouble,” drawled Athos, "then, and only then, would I say the night had been a success.”

“D’Art and the Dauphin have guards protecting them up there.” Smiling, Aramis thought his older brother worried way too much. Then again the lad had just gotten kidnapped, compliments of Emile Bonnaire. Perhaps Aramis was the one not worrying enough.

“Yeah,” grunted Porthos. “But whose gonna protect the guards?” His off the cuff remark made Aramis nearly choke on the appetizer his friend had been eating.

“Gents.” Having caught the tail end of Porthos’ words, Treville laughed lightly. “I would like to hope that all of us would get through tonight’s festivities without an extra grey hair added to our collective heads.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears, Captain.” Acknowledging the officer with a dip of his head, Athos then went off to circulate the room.

++++

“Is this a private party or may I join you both?”

Putting down their plates of food both boys turned around where they sat, upon the sound of the feminine voice. Louis was the first to speak up.

“Milady, you are always welcome in our company.”

“Merci.” Sitting beside the children, she was able to see why d’Artagnan and the Dauphin liked it up here.

"May I ask why you're not enjoying yourself down there?" Sometimes d'Artagnan didn't understand adults and their actions. Up here you couldn't dance nor find any amusements to occupy yourself.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was tired of hearing the same old, boring stories told by those silly, simpering courtiers?"

Exchanging amused looks, both d'Artagnan and Louis responded in tandem. _"Oui!"_

"Oh!" Surprised at their honesty, Milady chuckled. "Would that be one of the reasons you've ensconced yourselves in the balcony?"

"Papa's courtiers are a tedious, tiresome bunch," said Louis with all the air of a grown-up.

"They're so full of themselves," d'Artagnan pulled a face. "Tis hard to keep a serious face or be in their company for longer than a few minutes."

Clapping her hands together, Milady wholeheartedly agreed. "I couldn't have put it any better, d'Art." Plucking a petit four from the dessert tray, she observed what was happening below.

"Papa and maman consider Comtesse de Larroque a favored friend." Noting that Milady had been watching the highborn woman conversing with his parents, Louis smiled. "She has been very much in demand upon the dance floor."

"Perhaps I should go down and give her some competition then," murmured Milady. "What say you to that?"

"An excellent idea," chirped Louis. "I'm sure you're a marvelous dancer."

"You're prejudiced," grinning, Milady tapped the Dauphin upon the nose.

"I've been watching the Comtesse too," added d'Artagnan. "Every now and then she keeps staring at papa Athos. I don't believe he knows her."

Not sure how to respond to that, and a bit surprised at the interest the Comtesse was showing in Athos, Milady decided to go back downstairs. "I shall see you both later."

After she left, Louis and d'Art went back to observing the guests at dance and enjoying the delightful music. Of course when one of the maids came up to them with another assortment of desserts, they relieved her of the entire tray. After all they had to keep up their energy.

++++

_Back to the ballroom_

Spying Constance with the queen, Aramis enjoyed watching her interact with Her Majesty. He'd like to think he'd been responsible for Constance's friendship with the royal but nothing could have been further from the truth. Constance was a very likable and intelligent person in her own right. Aramis believed those were the qualities Queen Anne noted upon hiring her as personal seamstress and later led to the monarch making Constance her confidant as well.

Watching Constance walking toward him, Aramis smiled charmingly. Taking her hand he bowed his head low over it to place a gentle kiss there. "Enchanté, Mademoiselle." Her giggle brought a tender look to his eyes. "You are a delight to look upon this eve."

"Oh posh." Giggles still escaped her but part of Constance warmed to his words. "I do hope that means that I am presentable the other times you have seen me."

"I did not mean any offense," said Aramis, acutely aware he may have bungled his compliment to her. When she gave him an impish grin, he relaxed. "You do love nothing better than to keep me in a tizzy."

"Tis what I live for," quipped Constance, with a quick wink back at him. "Now as you're on duty I must entertain myself with some poor soul around here who needs a dance partner."

"Dance with whomever you please, Constance." A frown marred Aramis' brow. "But Captain Treville informed us we shall be relieved of our duties before the soiree is over." Returning her cheeky wink he tacked on,  "Just make sure to save the last dance for me."

"You can count on it." Flouncing away, Constance found herself being swarmed with the eligible young men that had apparently been waiting for her to finish speaking with Aramis.

"Competition," whispered Porthos in his brother's ear. "I hope you've been on petite soeur's good side lately."

Grumbling under his breath, Aramis gave his friend a sour look. "Aren't you supposed to be stationed near Their Majestys?"

Laughing, Porthos airily waved at his brother before going back to guarding the royal couple.

Sidling up to Aramis, bumping shoulders with the marksman, Athos took in the concern etched upon the younger man's face. "Do not worry so. Constance is a one woman man and _unfortunately_ for her," a touch of sardonic humor laced his tone, "that _man_ is you."

Huffing, Aramis shook a finger at Athos. "I don't know whether you gave me a compliment or insulted me." Crossing his arms, his eyes narrowed. "There is a thing called _tact_. I'm sure you're well acquainted with it."

Rolling his eyes, Athos grinned. " _Tact_ is for people who are not witty enough to use sarcasm."

Thinking to get back at the older man, a sly grin stole over Aramis' handsome features. "The Comtesse keeps looking over here at you, mon ami." Throwing a casual arm around Athos' shoulder, he chuckled. Let's see how his brother reacts to that.

"I have seen her at the palace before but have not had the pleasure of conversing with her." Frowning, Athos was surprised he had admitted that even if it had been to one of his closest friends. A melancholy sigh passed his lips before saying, "Once in a while you meet someone who makes you smile when you think about them." A wry grin crossed his face. "Stay away from them... they are trouble." Having the last word, Athos smartly turned away from his stunned brother and went to check with the other Musketeers on duty.

++++

Coming upon Porthos, who appeared quite annoyed, Athos wondered what had happened now. "Problem?"

"Some people need ta get their finger out of their butt so their brain can get some oxygen." Put in a foul mood, Porthos glared at his friend not really meaning to take his anger out on Athos. "Ah, 'ell! That idiot over there," he pointed to a puffed up popinjay in the corner speaking with a group of nobles. "'E was tellin' Cardinal Richelieu that the Musketeers were nothin' but a bunch of glorified court jesters jumpin' ta King Louis' tune."

"I would agree to the premise that we do indeed jump to His Majesty's tune," dryly commented Athos. "However I do take great offense upon having our regiment belittled in that manner."

"Makes ya want ta cross swords with that nitwit, don't it?" Wishing Athos could teach the odious noble a thing or too, Porthos knew that the swordsman couldn't. Not here, that was for certain.

"My hand fairly itches to unsheathe my rapier," quipped Athos, now trying to make light of it thus relieving the tension that had built up within Porthos' large frame.

"'E got the common sense of a gnat," snorted Porthos, his earlier anger abating somewhat.

"Mon frere, _common sense_ is not a gift, tis a punishment because you have to deal with everyone who does not have it." Clapping a hand upon Porthos' broad shoulder, Athos gave it a gentle shake before leaving his friend's side.

++++

_Half an hour later, before the soiree's end_

True to his word, Aramis did indeed get to have his last dance with the lovely Constance. The latter's face was suffused with color as he heaped compliments upon her titian head.

Observing the duo, Milady actually found it a sweet sight. At least Aramis genuinely appeared to care for the young woman, without putting on airs of pretense. While sipping her glass of Anjou she found the drink suddenly taken out of her hand. All she had glimpsed was a dark-gloved hand then poof the wine had disappeared like magic. Turning around Milady came face to face with her ex-husband. "Slumming... again?"

Upon her words, an aggrieved look came over Athos' normally stoic features. Still he bravely asked, "Would you care to dance, Anne?" Of all the foolhardy things he could do. Ah, bien, it wouldn't be the first time nor the last. If she turned him down, Athos would not let it bother him. Her immediate response to his question had taken him aback though.

"Oui." Placing her hand into his, she let him lead her onto the dance floor.

++++

"I say, d'Art... look." Pointing to the dancers below, Louis tugged upon his best friend's arm. "Athos is dancing with Milady."

Understanding there wasn't any love lost between them, d'Artagnan was confused as to what had gotten into papa to make him dance with Milady. Of course it could be papas way of thanking her for constantly rescuing himself and young Louis. Wondering how all of this would play out he became distracted by the Comtesse once more. Noting the attentive interest Comtesse de Larroque was still showing in papa Athos, d'Artagnan couldn't wait to tell papa Porthos and papa Aramis all about it.

++++

Yes, I’m on a roll. Now we will be dealing with Ninon de Larroque from The Musketeers season one, episode seven: A Rebellious Woman. Some dialog will be used from the show which you’ll recognize. My version however is not going to quite follow that script as I’ve kept close to doing with my others.

 _Enchanté_ \- has several meanings: delighted or pleased to meet you or nice to meet you  
_Petite soeur_ \- little sister  
_Soiree_ \- a fancy evening affair a/k/a a party

 _Quote: "Tact is for people who aren't witty enough to use sarcasm."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings from www.coolnsmart.com.

 _Quote: "Once in a while you meet someone who makes you smile when you think about them... stay away from them - they're trouble."_ from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Some people need to get their finger out of their butt so their brain can get some oxygen."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Common sense is not a gift, it's a punishment because you have to deal with everyone who does not have it."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The picture may make hearts pitter patter. That is if your a fan of Athos. LOL!  
> Also if ever the picture below ends up disappearing it's because Postimages.org is having financial issues and may shut down. Just a heads up on this in case it ever happens.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

 

_Next day, early morn - The inseparable’s home_

About to leave to go to the palace d’Artagnan had a question for papa Athos. “So you danced with Milady at the soiree.” Noting the wince, he thought papa’s reaction intriguing. “I was surprised.” Papa mumbled something unintelligible under his breath that d’Artagnan couldn’t decipher. Adding a dramatic sigh he said, “I guess tis none of my business.” Grabbing his school work he dashed out the door, not any wiser than he was before.

“Cat got your tongue, mon frere?” Leering over Athos’ shoulder, Porthos grinned. The older man appeared to find his nearly empty mug of hot coffee of high interest.

Still studying his drink Athos murmured, “Have you ever found that coffee has a distinctive smell that makes you forget how painful tis to be awake?”

“Steering us in another direction won’t work you know, Athos.” Perching himself on the edge of the kitchen table, Aramis smiled pleasantly at his friend.

Staring at both men, Athos’ blue eyes flashed his impatience with them. “I wish more people were fluent… _in silence_.” Taking another sip of the dark liquid, he realized his words fell upon deaf ears. “At least it would make my morn so much the better.”

“Oh ho!” chortled Aramis gayly. “You’ll never get that in this house.”

“I’ll second that,” agreed Porthos who snatched the now empty coffee mug right out of Athos’ hands.

Noting the rolling of eyes Athos bestowed upon them, Aramis slapped his thigh hard. “I assume some things are just best said with an eye roll then.”

“Are you two both done badgering me?” drawled Athos, this was not how he expected the morning to go. His brothers didn’t respond to the query so after a brief tug of war with Porthos over his coffee mug Athos refilled it, hopefully to finish it in peace.

Stretching his arms over his head, a huge yawn escaped Porthos. “Ya know I’m not sure if’n I want ta go out and wish I was at home or stay in and wish I was out.”

“I believe the captain wanted to see all of us as soon as we get to the Garrison today. Staying in won’t be an option you were possibly looking forward to.” Aramis was hard pressed not to burst out laughing, upon the distressed features of his largest brother.

“Oh come on!” Whining at the injustice of it all, since they had just pulled late duty at the palace last eve, Porthos threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "I forgot the captin' said that."

"No rest for the wicked, mon ami." Chuckling, Aramis went to the sink to wash up the breakfast dishes.

"You two go ahead, seize the day without me." Holding up his drink, Athos grinned. "I will just have this coffee and catch up with you later."

"You're kiddin' us... right?" questioned Porthos because Athos was never one to shirk duty.

"Of course I am." Shaking his head, Athos ignored Aramis' snort of amusement. Quickly downing the contents, placing the mug back upon the kitchen table, Athos headed for the main room to put on his doublet and chapeau. Upon fastening his weapons belt, he glanced over at his friends. "I will see to our horses and then we shall leave."

As the door closed behind Athos, Porthos turned to his brother. "'E never did give any of us an answer ta what d'Art brought up."

"I doubt he ever will." Done in the kitchen Aramis too went to retrieve his own doublet and chapeau, putting his weapons belt on as he walked out the door.

Porthos, having already donned his garments and weapons, followed upon the heels of the marksman.

++++

Having reported for duty, the inseparables found they were to guard the Comtesse de Larroque at her residence. Apparently she was being harassed, by unsavory characters, because of her work educating women.

En route to their destination, Aramis voiced an opinion. "I don't know why some people want to persecute anyone for trying to better the lives of others."

"She is an enlightened woman," pointed out Athos. "To certain factions the Comtesse poses a threat." Privately he thought her very brave for doing what many others frowned upon.

"Constance's cousin Fleur is being taught by the Comtesse." Applauding Fleur for bettering herself, Aramis hoped the young woman didn't run afoul of the same ones giving the Comtesse trouble.

"Many enlightened nobles show kindness to their servants and others that have no means to better themselves." Hoping nothing sinister happens during their time guarding the Comtesse, Athos slowed Roger down upon approaching her estate.

++++

_Inside Comtesse de Larroque's home_

Parading around the parlor, Ninon took in all the young faces, and some not so young, that were paying her rapt attention. "Your men folk would tell you that an education is a danger to your fragile mind." Snickers came from several of the older women, bringing a smile to Ninon's lips.

"My women of Paris seek your own enlightment!" Waving a hand in the air, Ninon carried on. "God gave you life... not man! Tis your christian duty to live this life to its fullest!" During her speech, a servant girl approached to whisper in Ninon's ear. "Let them in." Noting the arrival of three armed Musketeers, a delicate brow lifted upward as the men drew closer. Especially one man in particular.

"Bonjour." Dipping his head, Athos' direct gaze connected with the Comtesse'. "I am here on behalf of the king. My name is..."

"I know who you are," interrupted Ninon. Ah! She noted surprise register in his blue eyes. Very good. She loved to keep people off balance. "I've often seen you at court and often thought how handsome you are." She apparently rendered the Musketeer speechless. Which was quite amusing in itself. Ninon doubted this soldier was ever at a loss for words. "There's a melancholy aspect to your looks that I've found intriguing," she paused for a second. "But tis probably only mental vacancy."

Porthos' and Aramis' chuckles did not do anything for Athos' self-esteem just then. Taken aback upon her words, he did not know how to address the insult. The latter part of her statement was an insult or so he believed. Now she had him questioning his own mind. The Comtesse was very direct for a woman. Collecting himself Athos said, "His Majesty believes you may be in danger and has ordered us to be your guards for a short while."

"Whom would bother to harm me?" It was a ridiculous notion, as far as Ninon was concerned.

" _Whom_ would not?" sharply countered Athos with an arch of one brow. Upon noting a fierce light enter the woman's eyes, he elaborated. "I meant that you are teaching these women things that some find offensive and they feel threatened by it."

"Is that what you believe as well?" Hoping this man was not among those oafs that would deny an education to the less fortunate, Ninon found herself holding her breath awaiting his response.

"Non." Knowing he had pleased her with his answer, Athos couldn't help but tease the woman. "Then again," lips quirking, eyes twinkling, he shrugged one shoulder, "What do I know?"

"I'm sure quite a lot." Presenting her back to him, she snapped, "You may leave me now."

"We cannot go against King Louis' orders." Stepping around the Comtesse' elegant figure, Athos stared her down. "We must search your home to make sure all is secure."

"Much ado about nothing," wretchedly muttered Ninon. Wrinkling her nose up, as if a foul stench assailed her, Ninon finally relented. "But only you shall do the search and I shall go along." Observing the play of emotions upon his handsome features, Ninon knew Athos was about to argue the point. When instead he appeared to come to his senses remaining silent, she was pleased. 

Two stubborn individuals butting heads, Porthos thought. He was glad it wasn't him having to deal with her. As he listened to them drone on, his curiosity was peaked over something the Comtesse was wearing. Not thinking she would mind he asked, "Your necklace what does it represent?"

Wrapping her hand around the object, Ninon answered the dark-skinned Musketeer. "Tis a wren. A symbol of hope and freedom. A bird that cannot be caged."

"I like that." Shyly smiling, Porthos caught Aramis' amused face but ignored it. Watching the Comtesse depart the room with Athos, he wondered how long the search would take. It was a big house. While he was pondering this, Porthos saw that Aramis wasn't letting any grass grow under his feet.

Making himself right at home, flitting from one lady to another to see what they were learning, Aramis felt like he was in his element. He only wished that his Constance was with him. She would love this place. Perhaps he would talk her into joining Comtesse de Larroque's circle. But perhaps that should wait until they make sure no one's life would be in peril.

As much as Aramis was in his element, Porthos was the complete opposite. Still he decided to try and follow his friend's example. Hopefully he wouldn't appear too dense for these women. Some of whom he guessed were cultured but most of the others he felt were more like him, wanting to soak up as much knowledge as possible.

++++

_More than a half an hour later_

Taking Athos to search the last room, Ninon couldn't help the attraction she felt toward this soldier. "Will I see you after you're off duty?"

"Why?"

Placing a hand upon the side of his face, Ninon drew close and kissed him. When he returned her affection, she grew bolder letting her lips linger upon his own. "That's why."

"I shall see what could be arranged." Athos used to believe he was intelligent. This was a huge mistake upon his part but for some reason he was eager for her companionship. In the past women had only ever spelled trouble for him. This could lead to heartbreak. But wrapped up in the warmth of her eyes, Athos couldn't deny himself. Leaning in for another kiss, he thought that perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

++++

_Royal Palace_

In-between doing their lessons, the two boys whispered back and forth. Mostly about what went on during the soiree between Athos and Milady.

"Do you think they'll get back together, d'Art?" Knowing the past history of the older couple from d'Artagnan, Louis thought it all romantic.

"Papa is hard to read most of the time, Louis." Brushing some hair out of his eyes, d'Artagnan thought more upon it. "For some reason I'm finding it hard to fathom them together at all." Tapping a finger upon his chin, he had another thought. "Lest us forget the looks Comtesee de Larroque kept sending papa's way as well."

"Athos could do worse you know," pointed out Louis. "She's not only pretty but very nice and quite smart. I've often heard maman and papa praising her good works."

"Pretty and smart aside," lowering his voice even further, d'Artagnan glanced at his lesson plan for the day, "we better quit speculating before we're reprimanded for not paying attention." Which was easier said than done. D'Artagnan's mind wouldn't let it rest. The two women were so unalike. It was like comparing night to day. How would it all end? Papa Aramis would say leave it to fate. Then again, papa was forever the romantic.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

"Luca, a pleasure to see you." Briefly hugging the man he hadn't seen in years Armand broke away first, wondering about the true reason for his friend being here. They conversed for a time, exchanging easy banter.

"I have a gift for you, Armand." Presenting an ornate box to his friend, Luca placed it upon the desk. "The Holy Father has always been fond of you."

"I shall get off a missive to him at first opportunity extending my deepest gratitude."

"You've probably curious as to why I'm here." Upon the nod of Armand's head, Luca continued. "The Holy Father is greatly disturbed over France's alliance with Sweden."

"If we are going to talk politics," standing up Armand reached for his cape, "I think King Louis should be included." His hand upon Luca's back guided the other man out the door. "Tis only a short ride to the Louvre."

++++

_Royal Palace - King Louis' chambers_

"Your Majesty, this is Father Sistini from Rome." Noting King Louis didn't appear impressed, Richelieu tacked on, "We're old friends and attended the seminary together." For some reason the king seemed vexed.

" _Sistini_." Saying the word left a bad aftertaste in King Louis' mouth. "Aren't you that Jesuit priest that wrote that terrible pamphlet?" When Cardinal Richelieu tried to explain away the reason Sistini had written that piece, King Louis held up a hand.

Closing his mouth shut upon a snap, Richelieu inwardly cringed.

"That's the one." Tone sour, King Louis' fingers beat a tattoo upon the arm of his chair.

"Sire," stepping forward, Sistini bowed his head. "I had presents for yourself and the cardinal but alas," he spread his arms wide, "I was robbed of my possessions while traveling the city streets. I only managed to save a precious relic that was meant for Cardinal Richelieu."

"Mmmmm," hummed King Louis, looking bored. "At least Richelieu received a present." His eyes shifted toward His Eminence noting how uncomfortable he was making the cardinal. Attention back upon Sistini, King Louis' anger toward the religious man eased. After all this time, he shouldn't really be bearing a grudge for that awful pamphlet. How long ago had it been? Ah, bien. What did it matter now? "Why do you not stay here at the palace during your visit." Eyes dancing with amusement, King Louis smirked. "I hear the beds over at the Palais-Cardinal are quite lumpy."

About to argue that point, Richelieu realized this was the monarch's way of making amends for the poor reception the king had given Sistini. "You are too generous, Your Majesty."

"Oui, I know. Tis a weakness."

Feeling that it was safe to press on, Richelieu told the king why Sistini was in the country. "The Holy Father sent Father Sistini to speak with you about France's alliance with Sweden." Ah! His Majesty wasn't pleased to hear that. King Louis may end up retracting that invitation to stay at the palace, if talks go downhill.

"Time enough for that. At the moment I have other things to attend." With an air of arrogance, King Louis dismissed both men. For a brief moment, he felt like a petit that had just told a fib. There had been nothing of great import scheduled for today. He simply needed an excuse to get out of talking politics. King Louis wasn't in the mood. Instead, he was going to search for his wife. Stepping outside the room, he spotted his son with d'Artagnan. Their lessons must have finished for the day. Perhaps coaxing the boys into a quick game of croquet was just the thing King Louis needed. Then he'd seek out Anne to see what new endeavor she had waiting for him.

++++

_Notes:_

Since there was a romantic moment between Athos/Ninon I just had to add a picture which came from https://screencapped.net.

I have made Fleur be related to Constance. In the show Fleur was Constance's husband's cousin.

Ninon mutters her displeasure to Athos saying it was _much ado about nothing_. Which is a comedy by William Shakespeare thought to have been written in 1598 and 1599.

 _Quote: “Have you ever found that coffee has a distinctive smell that makes you forget how painful it is to be awake?”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “I wish more people were fluent… in silence.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “Some things are just best said with an eye roll.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: “You know I’m not sure if I want to go out and wish I was at home or stay in and wish I was out.”_ – from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Go ahead, seize the day without me, I'll just have this coffee and catch up with you later."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to wish everyone that celebrates the season a blessed Thanksgiving!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early eve_

Having dined together, Athos took Ninon back home. The carriage he had rented had drawn to a halt in front of the estate. Helping her exit it, Athos then placed her hand in the crook of his elbow determined to linger in her presence just awhile longer before escorting her inside. Picking her brain, Athos discovered she detested the state of marital bliss. Mind you, his own earlier marriage was the complete opposite of being anywhere near _blissful_ so he certainly couldn’t find fault with Ninon’s feelings.

“I believe marriage to be a curse and I won’t submit to it.” Voicing her opinion upon the matter, Ninon thought that Athos would now turn away from her.

“As it happens I agree.” Casting her a slightly amused glance he drawled, “So what they say is true… you are a _rebellious woman_.” Watching her lips twitch, he repressed the urge to laugh.

“Does that frighten you?”

“Non.” Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Athos admitted to something from his past. “But I was married once… and now I am done with romance.”

“It ended badly?”

“You could say that.” That was an understatement but Ninon wouldn’t need to know the full details.

“I am sorry for it.”

Taking the steps slowly, the closer they got to the entrance, the sounds of cursing and fighting assailed their ears. When the doors burst open, they both stepped aside. A man came sailing past them, courtesy of a kick to the backside from Aramis. Then quickly another one was hurled past them.

Rushing by the marksman, in a whirl of skirts, Ninon entered her home only to find utter chaos surrounding her. The precious books she had collected were scattered about the main room. Some torn and others appeared to have been burnt.

“The canailles came barging through the door before Porthos and I could prevent them.” Running a hand through his curls, Aramis grimaced at the disaster that had taken place. Somewhere along the way he also had lost his chapeau. Heaven alone knew where it would turn up. He just hoped a purchase of a new one wasn’t in his future, as his finances were low. Giving Porthos a rueful shake of his head, Aramis noted the distraught features upon the Comtesse’s face.

“You cannot stay here,” stated Athos firmly, his tone brooking any argument she would have given.

Swallowing back tears Ninon would not shed in front of these soldiers, she gave an affirmative jerk of her head at Athos.

“Where are we gonna take ‘er?” They couldn’t rightly bring her back to their place. D’Art aside, it wouldn’t be proper with three men in residence.

“You and Aramis go to Treville,” bit out Athos, nearly growling the words. “Inform him I am taking her to the palace.”

“Makes sense.” Knowing the Comtessse was favored by the royal couple, Aramis thought it a good idea.

“We’ll meet up with ya there after seein' the captin'.” Dipping his head at the woman, Porthos followed his brother out the door.

After the other men had left, Ninon’s eyes clung to Athos’. “Twas a horrible way to end our first time out together.” Carefully making her way back down the steps to their coach, she let Athos help settle her inside.

“Tis a good thing the coachman wasn’t scared off by all the racket and waited for me.” Ever vigilant, Athos kept glancing out the window looking for signs of more agitators.

“Whatever will King Louis think upon finding me knocking at his door?” Clasping her hands tightly together, Ninion tried hard not to show Athos how nervous she truly was.

“Believe me,” turning his head toward her Athos’ lips quirked, “His Majesty has dealt with many unconventional people throughout the years seeking shelter at the Louvre.”

“So what you aren’t saying,” her cool gaze challenged the blue irises of the soldier, “is that I’m simply one of many.”

With a careless shrug of one shoulder, Athos left the rest to her imagination.

++++

_Royal Palace – Dauphin’s chambers_

Since the hour was yet still early, Their Majestys had been entertaining young Louis with tales of bumbling courtiers that had fallen over themselves trying to make an impression. They made an impression all right but not a good one. Also Louis, the elder spoke upon his younger days and his own campaigns upon the field of battle. Not to be outdone, Anne told her son about growing up a Spanish princess until the time came for her to come to France to wed.

Upon a messenger being sent to the Dauphin’s room, Their Majestys, had to abruptly call a halt to the endless questions their child peppered them with. Departing young Louis, who wore an adorable pout upon his face, they both promised to finish their stories another time.

++++

_Royal Throne Room_

" _Athos! Comtesse!_ " cried King Louis, a little shocked at this unexpected visit. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

Wincing, Athos figured their arrival had interrupted the couple's time together. Nevertheless there had been nothing else he could think to do, upon such short notice. Delving into the reason they were here, Athos was surprised how the king had taken the news.

"The Comtesse... a _witch_?" Glancing at the tight-lipped expression upon his wife's face, King Louis' sarcastic tone was not lost on anyone. "How marvelous!" Walking toward Ninon, he grasped one of her hands. "Did they think you could fly upon a broomstick... make love potions?"

Tugging her hand free Ninon hadn't found His Majesty's words amusing, even if she had heard disbelief in his voice. "I know you're trying to making light of a bad situation for my sake, Sire, but I simply can't find humor in my position right now."

"Of course you can't," rushed in Queen Anne, with a sideways glare at her contrite husband. "Let me have a room prepared for you and we'll try to sort all this out later."

With the departure of the women, King Louis focused his attention upon his silent Musketeer. "How do we nip this in the bud?"

"I am afraid time has taken that option from us," commented Athos. "The Comtesse has not been quiet about educating the women of France that wished to become enlightened."

"That's unacceptable, Athos." Rubbing his forehead, King Louis began to pace the floor. It wasn't until his old fox made an unannounced appearance that he began to relax. Noting the presence of Aramis and Porthos as well, King Louis beckoned all of them into his council chambers to discuss this troublesome business. Ninon a witch... ridiculous!

++++

_Next day, still at the Royal Palace_

D'Artagnan and young Louis had been apprised of what had taken place at Comtesse de Larroque's residence, when they were about to start their lessons. Their Majestys figured this way it would stave off questions from the children in regards as to why the Comtesse was staying at the Louvre.

Louis, of course, was overjoyed because she was such fun to be around. Upon the other hand, to d'Artagnan she was an unknown quantity and he didn't know what to think about her. Knowing what Louis wanted to do after classes were finished for the day, d'Artagnan decided to go along just to see what had attracted papa Athos to the Comtesse.

During the entire morn, d'Artagnan couldn't concentrate upon his school work. Finding his thoughts drifting toward meeting the woman papa was beginning to show interest in. It wasn't until his teacher loudly called his name several times that d'Artagnan realized he was doing a poor showing. Listening to Louis' snickering beside him, he sent a wry glance at the young boy. Best turn his mind upon something of greater import than papa's love life.

++++

_Main hall_

Running into Comtesse de Larroque this time of morn in the palace had thrown Milady quite a bit. Nearly mowing each other down, she spoke up first. "I am surprised to see you here at this hour."

This woman appeared to know her, though Ninon didn't recall having ever met her before. Not knowing if this was one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, Ninon was careful how she responded. "My house is being renovated and the king and queen have kindly extended an invitation that I may stay here until tis completed." It hadn't escaped her notice that the stranger was richly gowned. "Judging by your attire I doubt you are a servant here." The other woman's green eyes held secrets of that Ninon was certain. "Do I take it your association with Their Majestys is a close one?"

"I have helped in the rescue of the Dauphin and d'Artagnan upon occasion."

"D'Artagnan... that's Athos' son correct?" Remembering the conversation they had over dinner, Ninon felt she already knew the Gascon lad quite well.

"Oui." Leaning forward, speaking in a low voice, Milady told her she wasn't fooled by the subterfuge. "I know the true reason you're here but do not fear anything from me. I shall not say a word."

Coming upon the two women, Constance overheard what Milady had said. She too knew why the Comtesse was now a guest here. Having come from the queen's chambers, she had been told about the travesty visited upon the Comtesse. "If us women really want to be treated as equals, we ought to stop being so much smarter than men."

The younger woman's voice came out of the blue, startling both Ninon and Milady.

Making the introductions of herself and Constance, Milady noted that the Comtesse seemed relieved that she didn't have to lie to them.

"Since you both don't appear to believe the wicked lies being spread about me," eyes sparkling Ninon continued, "I assume I'm among like minds."

A long look passed between Constance and Milady. Both women answered together. "Absolutely."

"I believe in what you do," admitted Constance.

"As do I," affirmed Milady. "Men can't have it all ways as far as I'm concerned."

"Then why have I never seen either of you at my home?" Puzzled, Ninon waited for a response.

"I'm newly arrived to Paris." Glancing at Constance, Milady wondered at her excuse.

"And I simply don't have the time to spare." Noting doubt enter the older woman's eyes, Constance's chin jutted up. "I am Queen Anne's personal seamstress which takes up a great deal of my time." When the Comtesse bobbed her head in understanding Constance added, "I also take orders from other patrons when not needed at the palace."

Not having meant to injure Constance's feelings Ninon felt badly and wanted to make up for it. "I hope once this nonsense all goes away you'll both come to my house where you'll always receive a warm welcome." Until she caught a gleam in Milady's eyes, Ninon had been about to say more. Wondering what was behind that look, she didn't have long to wait.

"You've made a conquest of the Musketeer Athos." Only finding herself mildly annoyed at that turn of events, Milady couldn't help but like the Comtesse anyway.

"I have barely made his acquaintance," quietly murmured Ninon.

"Not from what I've seen and heard." Sending the other woman a coy look from beneath her lashes, Milady didn't bother furthering this particular conversation.

Curious as to what Milady had heard, Ninon instead turned to Constance. "You mentioned being a seamstress. Is there also a husband in the picture or anyone for that matter?"

"Non, I'm a single woman." Make of that what you will Constance thought but hesitated to mention Aramis to her.

Reading something more in how Constance responded Ninon pointed out, "Being single doesn't mean you're weak, it means you're strong enough to wait for what you deserve." Her remark brought about a spark of light in the younger woman's blue eyes, which pleased Ninon greatly.

"As to your problems dealing with idiots who don't know any better," huffed Milady, "some people find fault like there's a reward for it. No matter what a person does in life you're not going to be able to please everyone."

"Perhaps certain citizens  do not like my views upon the state of marriage." Frowning, Ninon supposed she could be outspoken upon the subject.

"Ha!" snorted Milady. "Marriage... the only war where you sleep with the enemy."

"Is that the voice of experience speaking?" quizzed Ninon. Noting Constance glaring at Milady, she wondered how well those two knew each other.

"Mmmmm." With a hum, Milady nodded her agreement.

"You must share your experience with me sometime over a little Anjou." Feeling a like spirit in Milady, Ninon was taken aback when the woman began to laugh.

Letting her mirth escape Milady tried her best to stop herself, upon the odd look Ninon sent her. "I don't need a reason to enjoy a _little_ wine. I just need a glass."

Milady's remark brought about a round of chuckles from them all.

Sadly they were interrupted by a petit tornade who nearly caused Ninon to take a tumble.

" _Louis!_ " Noting what almost happened, d'Artagnan bowed before Constance and Ninon. "Apologies, Mesdemoiselles." With a dip of his head toward Milady, he smiled. "Madame." Exasperated with his friend, d'Artagnan pulled the boy back by the scruff of his neck. "Where have your manners gone?"

"I was in a hurry to see Ninon." Shrugging out of d'Artagnan's grip, Louis smiled at her in apology.

"Since my dignity is still intact," she straightened her gown, Ninon placed a hand upon the top of the Dauphin's head, "I forgive you." The child beamed at her. "Now that you've seen me, Louis, perhaps you should go off with your friend there." Observing the other youngster placing a kiss upon the younger woman's cheek, a lift of one brow indicated Ninon's surprise upon the gesture. "Is he your brother, Constance?"

"Non." Hugging d'Artagnan to her side, Constance grinned. "D'Artagnan's a close friend as is all his pères."

So this was d'Artagnan. Pleased to have met him, Ninon held out her hand to the lad. "Tis a pleasure to meet Athos' son."

Realizing the Comtesse was studying him closely, d'Artagnan shied away from her scrutiny. "If you're looking for a resemblance you'll find none as I'm adopted."

"I already knew that from the conversation I had last eve with your père when we dined together."

It wasn't news to him, as d'Artagnan had watched papa getting ready for his engagement. He was mildly surprised though to note Milady's reaction. Not sure what to make of it, he kept silent. But if he were a betting man she appeared quite vexed.

Collecting her wits, Milady knew she didn't have a claim on Athos any longer. She hadn't the right to feel... to feel what exactly? _Mon Dieu!_ It couldn't be jealousy. There wasn't any love left between them to fill a thimble. Ridiculous!

"I for one am happy to see Athos show interest in a woman again." Ignoring the ironic lift of Milady's brow, Constance chuckled. "Now I must go to the market to purchase materials I need for a new gown the queen has just commissioned from me." Facing both boys, she wrinkled her brow. “You two stay out of mischief.” Rolling her eyes at the faces the children made back at her, Constance shook her head. “At least for today if you could.” With a quick wave of her hand at everyone, she departed.

An impish light entered Ninon’s eyes. “I knew Louis tended to find trouble but you as well, d’Artagnan?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, squirming from Ninon’s direct gaze, d’Artagnan grimaced. “Trouble seems to be my middle name lately and without any help on my part.”

“I sense a story or two behind your answer.” Amused, especially when she caught sight of young Louis’ sheepish features, Ninon promised herself to discover what those stories pertained too.

“Oh they are most interesting to be sure.” While the Gascon lad gave Milady a warning look she pretended not to have seen it.

“Tales for another time perhaps.” Hearing footsteps approaching them from down the hallway, Ninon recognized the queen's figure.

“Time for me to go,” said Milady. “I’ve tarried longer than I should have.”

“Business of import,” asked d’Artagnan. One never knew what Milady got up to.

“A small errand for Cardinal Richelieu.” Dipping her head at Ninon and the boys, Milady found herself walking past Queen Anne. The latter smiled at her, murmuring greetings of the morn.

“A most curious woman.” Upon uttering those words Ninon caught d’Artagnan covering his mouth, stifling amusement.

“Comtesse, you do not know the half of it.” Giggling, along with young Louis, d’Artagnan gave chase to his friend who had taken off like a flash of lightning.

++++

_Morgue_

"Why are we 'ere again?" Nervously standing around in the middle of all these dead bodies wasn't on Porthos' list of things to do.

"Word reached Treville that Cardinal Richelieu fell ill a short time ago. Ironically the voleur we have been searching for was the one that robbed Father Sistini." Joining Poupart near one of the unfortunate souls to have ended up in the morgue, Athos had to put up with this distasteful business.

"What does the voleur 'ave ta do with the cardinal bein' sick?" Shuffling away from one of the slabs holding a body, Porthos tried not to become ill himself.

"Because Captain Treville's heard some interesting tales concerning Sistini," said Aramis. "Not all of them good. He's suspicious and was hoping that the voleur may have kept something of import that he had stolen which may prove Sistini is not on the up and up."

"Athos, this was the body that came in not too long ago." Standing aside so the Musketeer could take a look, Poupart went about his business.

"He fits the description Father Sistini gave Treville." Going over to the man's belongings Athos began to search through them.

Walking over to the deceased, Aramis and Porthos stared at the thief.

"Open his mouth." Waiting for Porthos to do as he asked, Aramis huffed when the larger man refused to do so.

"You open 'is mouth." With a stubborn look at his brother, Porthos stood his ground.

Not wanting to waste precious time arguing, Aramis leaned over the body to carefully open the voleur's mouth. Immediately he recoiled from the foul odor that reached his nostrils. "Tis the same thing that was on the cardinal's breath when I was helping the doctor out."

Reaching into the thief's satchel Athos withdrew a sheaf of papers. His fingers came away coated with a sticky substance. Having heard Aramis' words, he held out his hand to the marksman. "Is the smell coming from him the same as what is on my hand?"

It only took a whiff and Aramis became worried for his brother. " _Wash your hands right now, Athos! I believe tis poison!_ " Observing the older man doing so, Aramis wondered what they had stumbled upon now.

++++

_Notes:_

_Canailles_ \- scoundrels

 _Tornade_ \- tornado

 _Voleur_ \- thief

_Quote: "If us women really want to be treated as equals, we ought to stop being so much smarter than men."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Being single doesn't mean you're weak, it means you're strong enough to wait for what you deserve."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Some people find fault like there's a reward for it."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Marriage... the only war where you sleep with the enemy."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I don't need a reason to enjoy a little wine. I just need a glass."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Garrison - Captain Treville's Office_

As the inseparables went up the steps to the captain's office, they met Monet, Germain and a lagging Eustis on their way down.

"Hope you have better news for him than we did," bit out Eustis.

"Captain's in a foul temper." Shaking his head, Monet winced when glancing at Germain.

"After nearly getting our heads severed the three of us can't wait to hit the nearest tavern once we're off duty." Wiping sweat from his brow, Germain knew this was a soldier's lot to be taken down a peg or two whenever things failed to come together. Still, he didn't have to like it.

"Yeah, Les  Épée Croisées is calling my name." Listening to chuckles escape the inseparables, Eustis gave them a sheepish grin. 

Brushing past the marksman, Monet's shoulder bumped against Aramis'. "Bonne chance."

With a quick knuckle rap upon the door, the trio entered the office with Athos leading the way. Noting the unopened bottle of brandy sitting upon the captain's desk, they realized it had been a trying time for Treville as well as the rest of the regiment.

"Must be bad if'n the captin's hittin' the liquor already." Keeping his voice low Porthos snapped his mouth shut when Athos shook his head in warning.

+++++

Running his hands up and down his tired face, Treville wished this day over. Hearing the creaking of floorboards, he noted three more of his soldiers standing silently by the entrance. Waving them further into the room, he leaned back in his chair. "Anything?"

"Cardinal Richelieu was poisoned," said Aramis bluntly. There wasn't any point in dithering about, so he put it out there.

Sitting up straighter, Treville blinked a few times letting the marksman's words sink into his weary skull. " _Poisoned?_ " he repeated as if he had never heard of the concept. "How and why?"

"The _why_ we do not know as yet," stated Athos flatly. " _How_ , bien, we discovered the voleur in the morgue. Sistini's things were found in his possession and brought there with the body."

"Mis smelled a strange odor comin' from Sistini's mouth," offered Porthos with a wrinkle of his nose.

"And I touched Sistini's papers that were covered in a substance that had the same smell." Sending the marksman a wry look, Athos continued. "Aramis surmised twas poison."

Rubbing at his forehead, Treville appeared at wit's end.

"Where is Father Sistini now?" Worried that the man would possibly try to finish what he had started, Athos felt an urgent need to be at the Palais-Cardinal.

"I have other Musketeers watching Sistini's movements. So far he's kept to his room at the palace." Hoping the prêtre stayed there until they had concrete proof of his guilt, Treville reached for the decanter upon his desk and filled the empty glass halfway with the amber-colored liquid. Downing it in one go, he smacked his lips together. "You don't know how much I needed that."

Wondering if the captain was going to offer them any, Porthos glanced at Aramis. He could tell his friend was thinking the same thing.

"Go ahead," urged Treville with some amusement in his voice. "Help yourselves, gents."

"May I ask how is the cardinal's health doing?" When Aramis had left, His Eminence appeared upon death's door.

"Half the docteurs say he'll make a full recovery," replied Treville.

"The other 'alf?" Judging by the concerned expression covering the captain's features, Porthos wasn't expecting a good answer.

Waving a hand airily, a snuff of laughter emerged. "Oh they claim Richelieu's about to meet his maker." Another bout of humorless laughter escaped him. "I believe some of the physicians have been taking bets."

"That's not nice of 'em ta do." Slightly amused himself, Porthos' smile slipped when Athos glowered at him.

"I want you men to relieve the men guarding the cardinal," ordered Treville. "If Father Sistini decides to pay Richelieu a visit keep him out of His Eminence's room. I don't care what excuse you have to give him." Slicing a hand through the air, Treville waved them away in dismissal. Chances of Sistini having more of the poison upon his person were slim. Which were their chances of proving him guilty of the crime unless they caught the prêtre in the act.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

Approaching Richelieu's rooms, the inseparables were greeted by familiar faces.

"Anything to report, Merle?" Thinking the younger Musketeer appeared nervous unsettled Athos.

"Been having a hard time keeping Father Sistini from visiting the cardinal." Merle nearly jumped for joy upon the arrival of the other three men. "He's been back several times already."

"Father's been rather insistent," offered Ancil with a shrug.

"I think there's something _off_ about him." Exchanging looks with his brothers, Dandre folded his arms. "That prêtre gives me the creeps."

"Duly noted," was Athos' dry response. "Now all of you return to the Garrison and report to Treville." When the three younger soldiers departed, Athos and his brothers took their places.

++++

_Inside Cardinal Richelieu's chambers_

A panel in the wall quietly slid open exposing a sinister looking individual.

Luca softly padded his way over to his old friend's bedside. Carefully withdrawing a poignard from within his robes he held it above the ill man's heart. With weapon in hand, his arm slowly descended. Much to his astonishment Armand's eyes snapped open at the same time the sick man's arms came up to shove Luca's blade away. So it was that he found himself in a struggle to end Armand's life.

++++

"I suppose one of us should check to see how His Eminence is faring." When neither of his friends volunteered to do so, Athos stepped into the room. Shocked at the life and death struggle he had walked in upon, Athos yelled out for Porthos and Aramis. Pulling out his pistol he didn't waste anytime and took a shot at Father Sistini. His aim was dead on. The second the ball entered the prêtre, Athos watched the man slump over the cardinal's body. Shoving Sistini off of Richelieu he then helped His Eminence to sit up.

"You timed that rather late." At first annoyed upon the last minute rescue, Richelieu then realized he may have well been killed if not for the quick action of Athos.

Having seen Cardinal Richelieu fighting off his attacker, weak though His Eminence was Athos remarked, "You knew that Sistini was behind your attempted murder?"

"An old papal trick having the relic soaked in poison. I should have guessed earlier." Gazing down upon the man he once thought he knew, Richelieu shook his memories away. "Get him out of here, Athos."

Signaling his brothers to help him with Sistini's body, Athos thought it had been a hell of a day, one way or the other, and it was not yet over. With Aramis on one end, Porthos on the other and Athos holding up the middle, together they lifted the corpse up to take him outside into the corridor.

Red Guards suddenly appeared out of nowhere, swarming over them. So Athos ordered them to take Sistini's body to the morgue. It would save them the trouble of doing so themselves. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Athos felt a headache beginning to blossom behind his eyes. Hoping to stave it off before reporting back to the Garrison, he and his friends headed for their mounts.

++++

_Royal Gardens_

Ninon was in her element entertaining both young Louis and d'Artagnan with her knowledge of literature, along with the arts and sciences. The children appeared to absorb her every word.

Because of the Dauphin's presence, numerous guards were stationed in various areas upon the grounds. What the soldiers didn't note, beyond the tree-lined area surrounding the gardens, was the fact that a group of at least fifteen men were waiting for an opportunity to strike.

++++

"Told ya the witch was here." Usually Dupre was the one least believed over nearly everything he said but yesterday he had overheard something interesting. Before leaving the tavern he had been visiting, Dupre had caught part of a private conversation between several Red Guards. They were talking about a woman staying at the Royal Palace under the protection of the king because some citizens trashed her home. Most of Paris had heard what had happened at Comtesse de Larroque's place. Dupre figured the red capes had to have been talking about her.

"Why would His Majesty protect the likes of her?" Aston couldn't understand it.

"Perhaps she's cast a spell upon King Louis and the queen too," suggested Glaisyer.

"Whatever the reason we got her now, boys." Pulling out his pistol, Aston waited for the others to do the same. Pleased that a number of men from their village agreed with his sentiments made him confident their plan would work. He motioned for his friends to fan out, covering the mix of Red Guards and Musketeers on duty, while he and the rest took the witch. The signal Aston had been waiting for hadn't been long in coming. With the sound of a single pistol shot, he and his men rushed from the trees heading directly for their target.

Greatly shaken upon the men coming after them, brandishing weapons, Ninon had the good sense to gather the boys close and try to make a run for the palace. "Come, Louis! D'Artagnan!" Shouting to be overheard, uppermost in her mind was that Louis must be protected at all costs. Something the young Gascon had in mind as well, watching the older youth unsheathe his sword fighting off two of their attackers. Feeling herself being torn away from their side Ninon tried to tell the children to leave her but neither of them paid attention, as they boys tried to help her.

Aston only wanted the witch but those two kids were getting in his way. He hadn't wanted to hurt them but things were getting out of hand. The petit was fighting like a mad thing, biting any limb that came into contact with the woman. The older boy was devilish good with a sword and had cut many of his men.

"The lad with the blade's making it harder for us!" shouted Glaisyer. "Don't know why he's defending her!"

"Take them along too! She's probably got them under her spell since they're fighting against us." Struggling with the youngsters, Dupre and the others finally managed to overcome them.

Having a good hold of the witch, Aston yelled out in agreement. "Then they'll suffer the same fate as the witch!" Dragging their victims away he, and the loyal men that hadn't been killed, made for their horses.

++++

_Inside the Royal Palace, shortly after the kidnapping  
_

Most of the guards had been injured, though two of their number had been killed. So the ones that were more critically hurt Treville had ordered taken away to the Garrison infirmary. The others remained behind to report to him upon what had taken place. Satisfied he had all the information, Treville presented himself to a furious King Louis.

" _Nom de Dieu, Treville!_ How did this happen?" Sharing anguished looks with his wife, King Louis was ready to send out every man available in search for his son.

"I don't know, Sire." His gruff voice filling the room, Treville caught sight of the queen's pale face. She looked about ready to faint. "Hazarding a guess," he hesitated for he feared the effect his words would have upon the royals, however Treville pressed on, "in some circles, as you both already know, the people think Comtesse de Larroque a witch."

"Oui. Oui. Do go on," said King Louis with the wave of an impatient hand.

"I believe that was why they had taken her."

" _Mere de Dieu_ ," whispered Queen Anne who began to sway to one side. Feeling a strong arm going around her waist, she leaned into the warmth of her husband's body. "You think they were only after Ninon?"

"Oui. Unfortunately the boys were in the way. The canailles that kidnapped them might not even realize they have the Dauphin in their possession." Feeling as if the rug had been pulled from underneath both feet, Treville's troubled gaze settled upon Their Majestys. "My men said d'Art tried to keep the Dauphin and Comtesse safe. He even managed to cut a few with his rapier." He couldn't help the note of pride in his voice. After all it was through the dedicated training of the inseparables and himself that d'Art was nearly as good with a blade as Athos.

"Still d'Art's only a child. By the sounds of it the odds were stacked against him anyway." Beside himself with worry, King Louis hugged his queen close. "I know the lad would have given his life for Louis." Clearing his throat, he stared hard at his old fox. "As many as it takes, Treville, bring my son safely back to us."

Not wanting Captain Treville to think they were without heart concerning the peril visited upon their friends Queen Anne said, "D'Art and Ninon are of great import to us as well, Captain. Louis and I want them back safe and sound too."

"Of course. Of course," murmured King Louis. "That goes without saying."

"I will rally the entire Garrison, Your Majesty." Bowing to the couple, Treville spun on his heels and departed quickly. "Upon his way past the doors his thoughts strayed to Flea and the Court of Miracles. He would send a runner to her with word of what happened here. Knowing she would have her people keep their eyes and ears open for any information to help them, it would take considerable burden from his shoulders. Informing the inseparables though was not going to be an easy chore. This coming right after the attempt on Richelieu's life was the very last thing Treville expected.

++++

_Garrison_

Now that they left Sistini's body to the care of the Red Guards, the inseparables made their way back to the Garrison. Stabling their mounts Aramis had remained behind to make sure the new stable boy, recently hired, knew the type of care to give their horses. Coming back outside he heard Porthos shouting something at one of the recruits. Glancing over at Athos hadn't helped, as the older man appeared just as clueless. Porthos was cursing a blue streak, as he made his way over to them. Aramis couldn't help but be amused at how aggravated his friend was.

Rolling his dark eyes, Porthos pointed over his shoulder at the new recruit he had been yelling at. "Bet ya didn't know I've started workin' as a translator now."

"Do tell," lips twitching, Athos smiled.

"Yup." Winking at his brothers, Porthos quipped, "Specializing in English ta dumbass."

Clapping his hands, Aramis chuckled. "He's new, mon ami. Cut him some slack."

"Mon frere," slapping the larger man's shoulder, Athos reminded Porthos, "you were once where he is now."

"I 'ave a 'ard time believin' that one." Hearing the sound of pounding hooves drawing close, Porthos turned around. Watching Captain Treville race past the gates as if le diable were after him, he knew something bad had happened. When the officer jumped from his horse before it had barely stopped, Porthos cast a troubled look at his brothers.

"Something is wrong," stated Athos. Treville stood in the center of the courtyard bellowing out orders left and right.

"Don't tell me someone's run off with Sistini's corpse." His muttered words were nearly lost amidst shouts from their captain. However, Aramis was treated to an amused snort from Porthos.

"Sir, is it the king and queen?" Knowing Treville was not a man to easily panic, the look upon his commanding officer's features gave Athos considerable pause. Whatever was going on, he began to dread finding out.

"Tis not easy to say this, Athos, but Comtesse de Larroque has been abducted along with the Dauphin and d'Art." After all these years, it was ironic that the first woman Athos showed an interest in was surrounded by controversy. Not to mention that d'Artagnan had somehow become mixed up in it.

A harsh expletive escaped Athos' lips. Half of him was glad his son was not around to have heard it but the other half would have given anything to have the lad by his side. After the death of Sistini, he had hoped once things wrapped up to spend another evening in Ninon's company. Apparently that was not to be either. Listening to Treville explain what transpired in the Royal Gardens, Athos felt fear take hold of his heart.

"What type of clothes did they wear, Captain?" You could tell quite a lot by the way someone dressed. Aramis should know, having always wanted to be in the height of fashion. Bien, as far as his pay would allow him that is.

"The guards said the men were dressed like simple villagers. Why?" Puzzled by the marksman's question, Treville wondered what laid behind it.

"I know where Mis is goin' with this," broke in Porthos. "We don't look within the city."

"We look out of it." His eyes darkened into a turbulent sea of blue. "Get your horses," ordered Athos. "We'll take a squad of men and check the villages closest to the city."

"An we don't come back without 'em!" Following behind his brothers, Porthos raced back to the stables. Silently vowing that nothing would stand in their way of bringing back the kids, and the highborn lady that caught Athos' heart, he saddled up Roulette.

++++

_Notes:_

_Bonne chance_ \- good luck  
_Voleur_ \- thief  
_Prêtre_ \- priest  
_Docteurs_ \- doctors  
_Poignard_ \- dagger  
_Nom de Dieu_ \- God damn it  
_Mere de Dieu_ \- Mother of God  
_Le diable_ \- the devil

 _Canailles_ \- scoundrels

_Les épées _ _croisées_ \- The Crossed Swords (refers to a French tavern)  


_Quote: "I've started working as a translator. Specializing in English to dumbass."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day – mid afternoon_

Twenty-five Musketeers in all had followed their lieutenant outside of the city in a desperate search for the missing Dauphin. That was their highest priority, though in their hearts burned the desire to rescue the young Gascon as well. Of course it was because of Comtesse de Larroque the boys were in jeopardy but none of the soldiers laid the blame at her feet. Splitting off into several groups, they went to investigate the towns closest to the city first that were within an hour or two from Paris. It wasn’t until later in the eve that the squads converged at a designated meeting spot picked out by Athos.

The atmosphere amongst the soldiers was grim, fraught with worry for the Dauphin’s safety. D’Artagnan was also not far from every man’s thoughts and prayers. The older boy had grown up practically under every Musketeer’s nose. It went without saying that the Comtesse’s fate urgently spurred them onward to find the canailles that had pulled this off.

“ _Athos!_ ” Drawing his horse abreast of the lieutenant’s, Badeau had good news for the officer. “Many of us have compared our notes on what we've been told by the citizens that were questioned. Most of them seem to agree that the people of Artois are quite a superstitious lot.”

“It seems that the work of Comtesse de Larroque for the women of Paris had spread further than anyone knew,” said Delamater. “So it would be fair to say that in Artois she would be considered carrying out le diable's plans.”

“You think she was taken there then?” Needing to latch onto some semblance of hope, Athos prayed this really was where they needed to be.

“It stands to reason.” Exchanging a long look with Athos, Badeau shrugged. “Artois is only a couple days ride from the city.”

“They’ve gotten a good head start.” Running a hand down Belle’s long mane, giving her a gentle pat, Aramis slid a glance upon Athos’ set features. “If we ride hard and fast enough we should be able to get there before anything of consequence happens.”

“ _Anythin’ of consequence?_ ” An arched brow, accompanied by a loud snort, followed by a pair of angry dark brown eyes settled upon Aramis. “Call a spade a spade, man. Whatcha’ meant ta say was we better get there right quick before they all get burned ta death.”

Gasps all around were heard in the deafening silence that followed the darker-skinned Musketeers words. The soldiers became unsettled, talking amongst each other. As one they then turned their attention back upon Athos’ tight-lipped expression.

“Come on. Are ya tellin’ me none of ya didn’t know that’s what’s done ta witches?” Furious didn’t even begin to cover Porthos’ feelings in the heat of the moment.

Glaring at marksman for his cavalier way of turning a phrase, Athos’ words stopped Porthos from saying anything further damning. “Mon frere, calm down.” Knowing everyone was on edge, he tried to defuse the animosity that had suddenly cropt up. “I do not want to tarry any longer. The Dauphin, our son and the Comtesse are depending upon a speedy rescue.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Pulling upon Belle’s reins, Aramis was close enough to Roulette to clap a hand upon his larger friend's shoulder. All seemed forgiven and they rode side-by-side, following their commander.

++++

_Later the next day - Palais-Cardinal_

Weak, but recovering, Richelieu was back at his desk closing the lid upon the relic he had originally been given by Luca. He handed it over to a monk that had been patiently waiting in his office. “Say Cardinal Richelieu sends his compliments and promises his holiness if he wishes to send anymore envoys they will be returned in the same condition.”

When the monk left, Milady stepped out of the shadows. “You do realize you’ll never be pape?”

“I never really cared for the idea,” dryly said Richelieu. “Tis an Italian club and largely a clerical position. I prefer something with a little more influence.” It was then he noted a flash of emotion register in her green eyes. “Troubling thoughts?”

“I’m concerned over d’Art and the Dauphin’s safety.” Wishing she had gotten word last eve, Milady would have ridden out with Athos and the others.

“As we all are.” The ones responsible better pray upon their knees that they die at the end of the Musketeer’s swords for mercy won’t be shown them when returned to Paris.

“Ninon didn’t deserve this to happen to her,” she waved a hand in the air. “Empowering women shouldn’t be a crime nor looked upon as witchcraft.”

“As it happens I agree.” Stroking his goatee, Richelieu studied the upset woman. “I haven't any extra duties for you to tend for today. Go lose yourself in the city and do what most of the women I know do… _shop_.”

“I didn’t know you could be witty, Cardinal.” A sly smile crossed her face which Milady had turned to the side, so His Eminence wouldn’t note. She had other ideas in mind than raiding the Parisian shops.

“I have been known to be so upon occasion.” Dismissing her with a nod of his head, Richelieu lost himself in other affairs of state. France waited for no man, nor woman, because of half-wit beliefs in witches.

++++

_Constance’s home_

Answering the door, Constance was surprised to find Milady standing there. Ushering her inside, she settled the older woman upon a comfortable sofa. “Would you care for anything?”

“Non. I’m good.” Adjusting her dress as she sat, Milady looked directly at Constance. “I want to find out if you heard what happened yesterday at the palace.” Already Milady could tell by the puzzled frown upon the younger woman’s features that she didn’t.

Quickly going into an explanation of events, Milady was afraid Constance was going to faint from shock. “Are you all right?”

“I… I do not believe so.” It was a good thing that Constance was standing beside a chair otherwise she might have landed upon the floor, as she felt the world spin around her.

“Deep breaths, Constance.” Watching her doing so, Milady felt badly. Perhaps this visit had been a mistake. “Feeling better?”

“A bit.” Collecting herself, Constance tried to focus upon her guest. “As usual I’m stuck here at home when I would rather be out there helping in the search.”

“When I was coming here I ran into Captain Treville,” said Milady. “He told me that Athos sent a man back to report to him. It seems that Artois is their destination.” Standing up she walked toward Constance. “We’d never catch up to them but if you are willing we could meet them halfway on their way back to the city.”

“Whatever for?” Bewildered at the suggestion, Constance could only dumbly stare at Milady.

“I’m sure Ninon would benefit from the comfort and companionship of two women after what she’s probably been through.”

“That’s assuming the Musketeers get there in time to rescue her and the boys.” Biting her lip, Constance noted the scowl directed at her.

“We have to remain positive.” Tilting her head to the side, Milady's eyes narrowed. “Are you up for this, Constance?”

“Let me change into my riding apparel. It won’t take me long.” Rushing out of the room, Constance immediately went to the closet. Once dressed she took out a rapier and pistol from a hidden compartment in an armoire near her bed. Finished, she faced Milady noting a rather pleased expression crossing the other’s face. “What?”

She hadn’t missed the weapons upon Constance’s person. “You’re my kind of woman.” Winking at her, Milady headed for the door. “One that’s always prepared.”

++++

_Early evening_

Having made camp, the inseparables sat huddled together. The somber mood of all the soldiers set the tone for night.

"What if..." cut off by the slash of Athos' hand in the air, Porthos swallowed the lump building in his throat.

"There will not be any _what if_ scenarios," hissed Athos. "We will get there in time." Observing Aramis' bent head quietly praying, fingering his rosary, it began to set Athos' nerves on end.

Porthos was wise enough not to say anything that would set off his brother again. All of them knew what was done to anyone proclaimed to practice witchcraft. Mob rules. No proper trial. Just truss them up and burn them, that's usually how it was done. Porthos wished he could pray like Aramis but he figured God would listen to his friend more than any of them.

"You're thinking too loud, mon ami." Staring at his friend, a slight smile stretched across Aramis' face.

"Didn't mean ta bother your prayin', Mis."

"God won't mind and I certainly don't." Knowing what was on the other man's mind, Aramis' eyes were gentle as they settled upon his brother. "We all have the same concerns but I feel all will be well."

"It better be because if'n it ain't," pointing over his shoulder toward Athos, Porthos winced, "I'm actually scared at what Athos might do. There won't be any controllin' 'im." Bending his head down he watched the flames rise higher from the campfire that had been prepared. " _Merde!_ I don't know how I'll react either."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, mon frere," gently scolded Aramis. "I cannot believe God would abandon them in their hour of need."

"Let's just hope that God ain't busy tryin' ta 'elp someone else out in the meantime cause they're gonna need all the 'elp they could get." Running a hand through his hair, Porthos decided he'd be better off hitting the sack. Needing to ready his bedroll, he got up and left.

Now that Porthos had departed, Aramis shuffled closer to the taciturn older man.

"I heard what you told him," whispered Athos. He too stared into the dancing fire, squinting against the brightness. Thinking that if they arrived too late, d'Art, Ninon and the Dauphin would be facing those very flames themselves. If that happened, Athos would never forgive himself. The best thing he could then do would be to throw himself upon the burning fire and join them.

"And do you believe in what I told him?" When Aramis first met Athos, his friend didn't attend mass. The swordsman had his reasons and Aramis never pried. Once d'Artagnan came into their lives, Athos changed. Wanting to raise the lad right, his older brother began attending church regularly along with Aramis and Porthos. All the man needed now was something untoward to happen and Athos would backslide.

"I am not sure how much I believe in the power of God, Aramis." Looking at the marksman, Athos tilted his head to the side. "I believe we create our own fate. In some cases it can be changed." Picking up a stick, he poked at the fire. "If for some ungodly reason this was their fate, I vow to change it." Listening to Aramis hum softly in reply, Athos decided to do the same as Porthos and turn in.

Finding himself alone, Aramis stared into the night sky. "God I know you're up there and you hear my prayers. I never doubt it. Not for one second." Closing his eyes, he murmured another prayer. "Keep them safe for us. Surround them with your protective light." Crossing himself Aramis kissed his crucifix before seeking the peace of sleep.

++++

_Next day, sometime before noon - Artois_

“Why have they brought us here, d’Art?” Sidling closer to his best friend, Louis promised himself he’d be brave but he felt his courage quickly deserting him. D’Art’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and he was glad for it as it grounded him.

“They believe Ninon practices black magic, witchcraft if you will,” d’Artagnan sighed. “I fear we’ve stepped into it again, Louis.” Rubbing the child’s arm up and down, not only to comfort the petit but to ward off the chill of the old barn they had been all but shoved into, d’Artagnan inwardly cursed their rotten luck.

Observing the children, Ninon was beside herself with righteous anger. They were innocents in this insane kidnapping plot. All of them were, actually. Swallowing down her own fear, she presented a brave face. Plus Ninon didn’t want to give the fools that had taken them the satisfaction of thinking she was scared to death.

Bless the Gascon youth for trying to protect them but there had been no chance for d’Artagnan, up against numbers greater than he. No amount of pleading on Ninon’s part changed their circumstance. A witch they believed her to be and twas a witch they would see burned at the stake.

Trying to explain that the petit was the Dauphin had almost been laughable. They didn’t believe a word Ninon had said, even when young Louis told them that himself. One of their kidnappers had the audacity to jest that if Louis was the Dauphin than he was the king of France. Ninon hoped for the opportunity to see that one eat his words.

For the third time or perhaps it was the fourth since they’ve been put in here, d’Artagnan tried to take a peek outside to see if there were any weaknesses he could make use of. There weren’t any. The barn appeared to be heavily guarded from all sides, which was probably why no one bothered to tie them up in the first place. The slow approach of Ninon pushed away any remaining ideas d’Artagnan may have had for escaping.

Bowing her head, Ninon’s voice was barely a whisper. “I am sorry for it that you both were caught up in this nightmare with me.”

“Seems to be our lot in life,” quipped d’Artagnan. “Louis and I keep getting ourselves in as much trouble as we get out of.”

“Most of the time by sheer accident,” sheepishly admitted Louis.

“As far as I can see all the wisdom I’ve collected through the years won’t help our plight.” Laying a gentle hand upon the top of each boy’s head, her sad eyes were quite eloquent.

“We’re not licked yet,” brightly said d’Artagnan. “I bet at this very minute papa Athos is nearly here leading a rescue party.” Trying to remain upbeat, he grinned. “Nothing would have kept any of my famille from coming after us.”

"I pray you are correct in that, d'Artagnan." Her smile slipping, Ninon wished she could remain as positive like the young Gascon.

" _And papa will have their heads!_ " Stomping his feet in anger, Louis’ face was filled with determination. He would see these people hang for the false crimes against them.

Louis' announcement made both d'Artagnan and Ninon chuckle. For a brief moment the terror of their ordeal fled but only for a moment. With the roar of the crowd gathering outside growing louder, they realized their time grew shorter.

++++

" _More wood!_ " cried Aston. " _We need to make sure the witch burns and goes back to le diable where she belongs!_ " Loud cheers rent the air upon his orders. Casting his eyes over many of the townspeople that had turned out for the spectacle, Aston watched Dupre, Glaisyer and a few other men prepare the stakes to which the Comtesse and her two young companions would be tied to.

Thinking back to when the petit tried to convince him that he was Their Majesty's son, Aston snorted. The boy gave it a good try but he wasn't about to fall for it. Even if Aston had a change of heart, releasing the children, he couldn't trust that they wouldn't run off and bring back others like her to avenge the witch's death. Non. The boys were damned the moment she weaved her spell upon them and therefore had to suffer as she would amongst the flames.

++++

When the door burst open, the trio gathered together. D’Artagnan, of course, placed himself in front of both Louis and the Comtesse. Automatically reaching for his sword, he remembered they had confiscated it the moment he had been captured. Weaponless, d’Artagnan still wasn’t going to make it easy for them. Using some of the dirty tricks papa Porthos had taught him, he managed to take down three men before being shoved down hard to the ground at sat upon by a man who was nearly twice the size of papa Porthos. Trying to kick out with his legs, he then felt another man holding them together preventing any movement upon his part.

“Feisty little bugger, ain’t he?” grinned the giant who anchored the youngster to the ground with the weight of his body.

“He’ll be a dead _little bugger_ by the time he’s through roasting,” cackled another man.

Multiple hands lifted him from the ground. D’Artagnan valiantly tried to fight against them again but nothing he did worked. Being unceremoniously dragged outside, along with Louis and the Comtesse, the sight that met his eyes managed to take his breath away.

Three thick stakes were stuck into the ground, with piles of wood surrounding them at the bottom. There were men standing beside each of them carrying thick, corded rope to bind them with. Glancing down at Louis, d'Artagnan noted the petit's chin quivering. The child was valiantly trying to hold tears at bay, wanting to appear brave. "If they want a show, Louis," he winked at his younger friend, "we'll give them one."

"What do you  mean, d'Art?" Frightened, Louis wasn't sure if that meant d'Artagnan had a plan or was just trying to make him feel better.

Ninon listened to the two boys speaking. Catching what d'Artagnan had said, she nervously waited to see what the youth was up to. But a hard shove to her back had her stumbling forward, forgetting all about whatever the Gascon was up to. Struggling against the hands that were guiding her toward the first stake, Ninon twisted her head around, mouthing the words _I'm sorry_ to the children.

Next to be taken was d'Artagnan. Managing to kick one of the men holding him in the groin, he smirked watching the canaille covering the sensitive area while cursing a blue streak. With now one arm free d'Artagnan was able to yank his other arm out from the grip of the one he thought of as a giant. So breaking away he held up both arms to the sky and began to chant at the top of his voice.

" _I CALL UPON AND INVOKE THE PROTECTIVE ENERGIES OF THE UNIVERSE!_ " Hearing screams and shouts coming from the crowd that d'Artagnan was calling up le diable, his voice stayed firm. " _LET NO HARM COME TO US! LET US BE FREE OF ALL PAINS AND RISE ABOVE FEARS! GRANT THIS UPON US! SO MOTE IT BE!_ "

"What are you doing?" hissed Louis. "They really will think we're witches along with Ninon."

"Non, Louis." D'Artagnan nodded his head toward the frightened people who were beginning to run away. "They're scared thinking I'll cast a spell upon them. Even some of the men that we fought with have run off."

"Perhaps this bought us some time," remarked Ninon. "Maybe you could bluff us out of this situation." She noted the hesitation of their captors and how they had backed away from them. They appeared uncertain whether or not to set alight the wood that was piled high at the bottom of their feet. "You must have friends in strange places, d'Artagnan."

"You learn many things in the Cour des Miracles." Trying to loosen the bonds that had him now tied to the stake, d'Artagnan didn't feel he was making any headway. He noted Louis imitating him but he doubted the petit would have any better luck than d'Artagnan was having. But it was upon the approaching sounds of pounding hooves, he realized salvation was upon them. Horses thundered into the crowd of dispersing people. Musket and pistol fire erupted all around them. Watching what remained of the onlookers scatter to the four winds, d'Artagnan laughed upon noting the uniforms that came into view. Glancing to his left and right, looking at the relieved faces of both Ninon and Louis, he couldn't help but feel pleased that his ruse had paid off.

++++

" _MERDE!_ " swore Athos, upon the scene they had come upon. " _LUTHER! MERLE! DUPONT! GET THEM DOWN FROM THERE NOW!_ "

" _I ain't going to stay here and get skewered by a Musketeer!_ " shouted Dupre to Aston. Racing away he didn't get very far, before running into the massive bulk of a dark-skinned soldier who appeared ready to do him bodily harm.

Glaisyer hadn't fared any better facing off with a Musketeer who looked rather at home behind the two pistols he was waving at him.

"Give me a reason," murmured Aramis. "I only need one." Tilting his head to the side, he slowly smiled. "Come on. You know you want to." Sighing dramatically, Aramis pointed one of the pistols at the canaille's head. "Non. Not in the mood? Ah, bien, then you'll come with me quietly, eh?" Watching the quivering mess in front of him, Aramis felt disgust fill him.

" _Where is the leader of these mad men?_ " Seething, Athos tightly gripped the hilt of his rapier. When Rene and Curtis shoved someone in front of him dressed like a farmer, he pulled the unfortunate sod by the man's jacket until they were nose to nose. " _I am Athos of the king's Musketeers and you and your followers are under arrest for treason!_ "

"Since when is it treason to burn a witch and her followers?" Aston was not going down without a fight.

"Comtesse de Larroque is a highborn, educated woman. _Not... A... Witch!_ " Shaking the man in his anger, Athos tried to calm himself. "The older boy is my son." Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly. "As if kidnapping them were not enough you added treason to your crimes by taking the Dauphin along."

"You mean that child really is King Louis' son?" Knowing that his life was over, Aston hung his head down in defeat.

"I gather the lad tried to get that into your thick skull." His tone dry as dust, Athos released his grip upon the man. Shoving him into the arms of two other soldiers, he turned away. Thoughts uppermost upon d'Artagnan, Athos had to do his duty toward the Dauphin first. Bending down upon one knee he looked the petit over. "Are you well?"

"As well as one could expect nearly getting burned at the stake." Despite his words, Louis smiled brightly at Athos. "D'Art's quick thinking bought us some time."

Standing back up, Athos walked over to his son who was flanked either side by Aramis and Porthos. "What did you come up with?" The child, at times, was most ingenious.

"Remember how you kept at me about lagging in my studies because I was spending too much time at the Court?" Folding his arms d'Artagnan watched papa Athos trying to remember that. "I owe Flea a huge bouquet of flowers for introducing me to Annette."

A loud burst of laughter exploded from Porthos as he clutched his sides. The puzzled frowns his brothers wore sobered him up rather quickly. "Old Annette lived in the Court and always claimed ta be a true witch. Always goin' on about this spell or that spell. None of us rightly knew whether or not to believe 'er." Slapping d'Artagnan on the back, Porthos chuckled. "Seems though whatever ya learned from 'er paid off, runt."

"I am still uncertain as to what took place here." Stabbing his son with a curious look, Athos hugged the boy to his chest. "But you may tell me upon the way back home." Releasing the youngster, Athos turned to Ninon. "You are unhurt?" A silent exchange of words took place between them. Volumes of relief entering his blue eyes upon her tremulous smile, he dipped his head closer to Ninon.

"Oui." Rubbing her arms up and down, Ninon winced. "Aside from some minor bruising at the rough handling we endured." Feeling Athos' arm go around her waist, she leaned her head upon his shoulder. "May I ride back with you?"

"I would not have it any other way."

++++

 _Notes_ :

 _Canailles_ – scoundrels  
_Le diable_ – the devil  
_Pape_ – pope  
_Armoire_ – tall cupboard or wardrobe  
_Famille_ \- family  
_Cour des Miracles_ \- Court of Miracles

Protective spell: _"I call upon and invoke the protective energies of the universe. Let no harm come to me. Let me be free of all pains and rise above fears. Grant this upon thee. So mote it be!"_ \- was found on the internet by Raven Sagemoon. I altered a few words.


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_A day later in the eve - en route to Paris_

Having made camp again any Musketeers, who weren’t standing guard against maladrins, had retired to their bedrolls. D’Artagnan and young Louis were already asleep being protected by Porthos and Aramis.

Ninon was conversing quietly with Athos while being warmed by the fire. They were whispering softly to one another but eventually were interrupted by the presence of another soldier.

Feeling modestly embarrassed, though there wasn’t any help for it, Dunstan cleared his throat. “We have some unexpected company, Athos.”

Their guests stepped closer to the flames. The brightness exposed two surprising figures, much to Athos’ dismay.

“We thought Ninon would enjoy some feminine companionship upon the way back to the city after the frightful time she’s had.” Eyeing how close the couple had been sitting together, Milady was hit with another bout of jealousy that nearly rocked her off her feet. She thought she was beyond those types of emotions where Athos was concerned. Apparently not.

“And you thought to come along too, Constance. Heedless of the dangers upon these roads especially at night.” The dryness of Athos’ remark was not lost upon the younger woman. Observing her face suffuse with color, he realized that it wasn’t just from the fire.

“Milady kindly asked if I would like to join her.” Clasping her hands in front of her, Constance felt like a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Besides you know I can handle myself.”

Trying to alleviate the tension in the air, Ninon held out her hands to both women taking each into her own. ‘I am overjoyed that you both thought so much of me to do this."

While the women conversed, Aramis silently made his approach after being relieved by Jacques. Gently taking Constance aside he nearly snarled out his words. “Did you leave what’s left of your sanity behind in Paris?” He felt like shaking her. When she didn’t respond, Aramis snapped. “Constance?” Pointedly glaring at her, he bit back a curse he badly wanted to shout.

“I’m armed!” Firing back at him, Constance showed Aramis the weapons upon her person. Titian hair came with all the usual disadvantages, that of having a temper to rival any man's. She wouldn’t stand for his attitude toward her, as if she was some silly damsel in distress not knowing a sword from a musket. “And as I told Athos I am well able to defend myself if needs must!” Wanting to stamp her foot upon the ground, Constance refrained from such a childish act.

Blue eyes bounced back and forth between his two friends. Not pleased either, Athos felt it a moot point by now. “Aramis let it go. This may end up being one battle you would not win, mon frere.”

“I’m amazed that you don’t want to heap coals of fire upon my own head, Athos. After all it was my idea in the first place.” Observing his eyes narrow upon her, Milady readied herself for the verbal abuse that was sure to follow that look.

Standing up, Athos shook his head. “What would be the point? You are both here now and unharmed.” Dipping his head toward her, Athos’ lips firmed. “I shall see to retrieving extra blankets for when you both turn in.” As he left the group, it hadn't escaped Athos' notice that Aramis had ignored his words and kept at Constance for coming here. Continuing on his way, the sound of a loud slap made him wince in sympathetic pain for the marksman. One of these days Athos felt that Aramis may learn his lesson. But it would appear that that day was not going to be this one.

++++

Rubbing the side of his stinging face, Aramis stared into Constance's contrite features. Granted he should have heeded Athos' words but he was deuce upset with her. It was bad enough the worries that preyed upon his mind all the way to Artois. To think that Constance had traveled to be with the Comtesse, even if she had Milady with her, caused him to touch his hair to see if it was falling out from the stress.

Her hand covering her mouth, Constance had shocked herself with what she had done to Aramis. "I'm sorry I slapped you, Aramis. But you didn't seem like you would ever stop talking and I panicked."

Automatically Aramis' arms wrapped around her. Kissing the top of her head, he pulled back to look into her eyes. "I'm the one that should apologize."

"If you think so then I won't argue." Leaning against him, Constance secretly basked in his concern for her. Oui, she could take care of herself but it was nice to know there was someone else in her life that wanted to slay her dragons.

Puzzled green eyes had taken in what had just transpired between the couple. Casting a look upon Athos' retreating back, a slim finger tapped her chin. "I just find it funny that Athos didn't bite my head off in like manner." Humming quietly, Milady's gaze lingered upon her ex until he disappeared from view.

Catching Milady's words, fore she hadn't been quiet upon saying them, Aramis winked at Constance. "You know a woman is mad at you when she starts off a sentence with - _I just find it funny how_." His laugh turned into a cough for fear of Milady hearing him. "Because there's a ninety nine point nine percent she didn't find it funny."

++++

Andre had been standing guard with Porthos and both of them were close enough to have overheard that last exchange between Aramis and Constance, along with Milady's comment with regard to Athos. Scratching his head, Andre glanced at the larger man. About to voice his question he didn't get the chance when Porthos raised a hand to stop him.

"Sometimes, Andre, the best thing ya can do is sit back... keep your mouth shut... your eyes open and let the stupid sort out itself." Porthos' chuckles mingled with that of the younger Musketeer.

++++

Bedding down, Milady silently gave herself a severe scolding. Athos wasn't hers any longer. How many times had she told herself that now? Ah, bien, those bridges were burnt long ago. Best to move on and forget the past and what she had lost. The present was much more promising for her and proving very lucrative into the bargain. Between the sum of what King Louis had given her, and Milady's on again/off again work for Cardinal Richelieu, her nest egg had increased quite nicely.

"Do you get the feeling that Ninon was only acting pleased to see us?" Yawning, snuggling down into the warmth of the blankets Athos had provided, Constance's sleepy blue eyes rested upon the older woman.

"What I believe is that Ninon wanted quality time with Athos and we've put paid to that happening by being here." Covering herself with a heavy blanket, Milady laid her head down. "Part of her was happy to have our company, of that I'm certain."

Closing her eyes, Constance murmured, "Guess we've put our foot in it as d'Art loves to say." As sleep claimed her, she heard Milady give an unladylike snort.

++++

_Next morn_

The boys hadn't even batted an eyelash upon discovering the presence of the other two women in their camp. The ordeal had taken the stuffing out of both of them, even though d'Artagnan had tried to act as if what he had been through was a normal occurrence in his young life. Simply put, he and Louis couldn't wait to get back to Paris without anymore troubles along the way.

While everyone geared up for the ride ahead, Athos approached Anne. "Did you sleep well?" Her muffled curse caused his left eyebrow to shoot up. Perhaps he had heard wrongly. Trying again he asked, "Are you suffering some discomfort I should be aware of?"

"I'm fine!" Biting out rather too sharply than she would have liked, Milady grimaced.

"So she says," chortled Aramis as he passed by them. Looking around upon the amused onlookers observing his brother and Milady, Aramis swept off his chapeau and bowed. "Gentlemen... just so you know - _fine_ is a woman's warning shot." He mimed shooting off a pistol. "If you hear this word, either start apologizing or run for your life." Much laughter ensued upon his words, except from the couple his remark was intended for.

"Aramis," snapped Milady, "has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

"Constantly." Glancing over at Constance's dancing eyes, Aramis blew her a kiss.

Lips twitching, Milady understood what the marksman meant but wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of being amused. "Beware, Aramis," her eyes gleamed mischievously, "My angel wings are in the repair shop. So today I'm riding my broomstick... be afraid."

"Duly noted, Madame." Going over to help Constance mount her horse, he noted the sour look Athos wore. Knowing a lecture would be due him later, Aramis resigned himself to his fate.

"Speakin' of _broomsticks_..." Casting dark eyes upon his son, Porthos who was already sitting comfortably atop Roulette continued, "next time ya get ta the Court ya gotta tell old Annette what ya did."

Taking the hand papa Porthos offered him, d'Artagnan mounted up behind him. "I intend too, along with that bouquet I mentioned earlier." Thinking more upon it he added, "Make that two bouquets." Feeling papa's laughter shaking his huge frame, d'Artagnan grinned.

“D’Art,” called out Louis, sitting behind Andre upon the Musketeer's horse Tristan, “I can’t wait to be home and see maman and papa.”

Thinking about his friends back at the Louvre, d’Artagnan wondered how the couple had survived all the near misses he and young Louis have had recently. Chalk this up to another misadventure. Pretty soon neither one of them would be allowed out in public. Bien, d’Artagnan figured his papas would be a bit more lenient with him than Louis and Anne would be with their son. “I’m sure they’ll fall over you with relief when we return, Louis.” A mumbled grunt from papa Porthos nearly made d’Artagnan snicker in response.

“Athos,” leaning against his back, as Ninon sat behind him upon Roger, the smell of leather tickled her nose, “nothing seems to faze you. I mean watching you during our rescue it appeared as if this was just another ordinary day in your line of work.” Listening to his snuff of laughter, Ninon wondered what he had found so amusing.

“I was thinking about something Porthos once told me." Pulling lightly on Roger’s reins, Athos slowed his horse down as the ground became uneven. “With all the things we have dealt with in our lives, along with emotions we have bottled up within us, Porthos had made a remark that had both Aramis and I in stitches.”

“I’m sure you are going to tell me soon.” Squeezing his waist lightly, Ninon wanted him to go on.

“He jested that strangely twas the voices outside his head that bothered him the most.” Listening to her chuckles, Athos smiled. “We’re soldiers, Ninon. We have learned to deal with the direst of situations while remaining emotionless.” Shrugging one shoulder, he added, “Most of the time.” Deciding whether or not to tell her how he truly felt coming upon such a horrific scene, Athos swallowed hard. "I did lose my composure briefly when seeing all three of you tied to those stakes waiting for a fiery death to claim you." Noting her silence, he waited until she found her own words.

"Thanks to the brilliant thinking of your son all of us escaped the grim reaper."

"The reaper will have plenty of opportunities for him to meet his quota within the seamier parts of Paris." Athos knew that for a fact.

"What say you we talk of more pleasant topics?" suggested Ninon. "I'd like nothing better than to put all of this behind me."

"Agreed."

++++

Milady was awfully quiet, Constance thought while riding near her. Observing the closeness that was developing between Athos and Ninon had to be hurting the older woman. However, she doubted that Milady would ever admit to it. Even if she had been the cause of Athos divorcing her, Constance always believed that people could change for the better. Perhaps Athos was afraid his ex-wife would backslide into her old ways if given half a chance, which was one of the reasons he was so guarded around Milady. Really, none of this was Constance's business but she was beginning to count her as a friend. It certainly wouldn't do for Athos to clash with Milady whenever he encountered her with Constance.

She became distracted when Aramis rode up to her. He was whistling an unfamiliar tune. Knowing his colorful past, Constance was afraid to discover where he had learned it. Ignorance is bliss, so they say. "We should get home by early eve at this rate. Don't you think, Aramis?"

"Without a doubt, ma chere." Casting a look at the Dauphin happily chattering away with Andre, his face changed expression. "I'd feel much better if our mounts would grow wings so we could fly back to Paris. The sooner we get the Dauphin home the better."

"Tis a responsibility keeping the lad safe." Smiling, Constance jerked her head toward d'Artagnan. "That one's going to wear out Captain Treville's entire regiment if this continues."

"Wrong time... wrong place," murmured Aramis. "I believe that will become our son's motto from now on." Constance had a charming laugh, he thought. Of course that was whenever she wasn't slapping his face.

"We'll have to help d'Artagnan curb his impulse to leap first and ask questions later, eh, Aramis?"

"Couldn't have said it any better, ma belle." Placing a hand upon his heart, Aramis gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alas though twill be a hard task." Her giggles caught him off guard. Looking at her strangely, he hoped Constance dropped him a clue.

"I just thought about what d'Artagnan would be like after his thirteenth natal day." An impish light entered her eyes.

"The lad will be a teenager then. God help us all!" They both laughed upon his words. Then their talk turned serious once more. Both wondered how Their Majestys fared waiting for the return of the Dauphin. Not to mention Cardinal Richelieu's worries as well. The poor man had nearly died. Then the kidnapping came right on top of that. Twas a good thing that most of their monarch's subjects had no idea how close they came to losing their future king. Twisting around in his saddle, Aramis waved Porthos over to his side. "D'Art, do you think you would be so kind in doing your family and friends a favor?"

"Uh oui, papa... I guess so." Uncertain where papa was going with this, d'Artagnan waited.

"When trouble finds you... get someone else to handle it."

Mouth dropping open in surprise, d'Artagnan at first couldn't think of a thing to say. Then it came to him. "How long do I have to keep doing that?"

Lips pursed, Aramis thought upon it then a huge grin nearly split his face. "Until you're at least eighteen."

"Perhaps not even then," chimed in Constance.

Tugging papa Porthos' doublet, d'Artagnan whispered in his ear when the larger man tilted his head back to hear him.

"Not fair to keep secrets from us." Aramis' sharp gaze settled upon the duo. "What did the lad say, Porthos?" Noting both of them wearing disgruntled looks, Aramis became most curious.

"Ya tryin' ta wrap our runt in cotton wool, Mis, and that ain't the way ta raise 'im."

"I have to be whom I'm meant to be," said d'Artagnan. "I can't be anything less than what I am."

"The child is correct, Aramis." Joining them, Athos had overheard their conversation. "We may worry ourselves sick over him but d'Art has the right to make his own decisions upon how he would act in any given situation." Feeling Ninon's breath against his neck unnerved him somewhat. Shaking those disturbing feelings off, Athos' gaze rested upon the youth. "Even if we do not like or agree with how d'Art handles difficulties he may face, tis why we have trained him as a soldier. One day our son is going to serve our king as a Musketeer."

"And Musketeers don't run away from trouble," added d'Artagnan with a lift of his chin.

"Twas only a suggestion," huffed Aramis. "If you're going to keep getting into these scrapes it wouldn't go amiss giving you a pistol to carry from now on."

"Good idea," agreed Athos. "D'Art already knows how to use one and is quite a good shot."

"I should be," boasted d'Artagnan with a grin. "After all, papa Aramis has taught me everything he knows."

" _Oh mon Dieu!_ " Trying hard to stifle her amusement, but failing miserably, Constance's eyes slid toward her young Gascon friend. "I sincerely hope not _everything_." When everyone caught her, not so subtle, innuendo, much laughter was shared amongst them.

Meanwhile Aramis blushed to the roots of his hair. "My _former_ reputation precedes me I see." Once again placing hand over heart, his head tilted to the side. "Upon my honor I tell you now that I'm innocent of all charges... then and now."

"Pull the other one, Mis." Porthos' booming laughter kept everyone in good spirits.

D'Artagnan decided to join in the teasing. "If you mean papa's popularity with the ladies not all of them enjoyed his company."

"Do tell, kid." A wicked grin spread over Porthos' swarthy features. "Ya weren't around for a lot of 'is conquests."

"I know that but take for instance Collette who works in the palace kitchen. She shoos papa out every time he goes there."

"Collette is in her fifties and doesn't like me pilfering the sweets she makes." Wondering how d'Artagnan even knew that, Aramis squirmed in the saddle.

"Then there's Veronique, one of the palace maids." Chuckling, d'Artagnan was enjoying himself. "I saw her hitting papa with her broom."

"In my defense I was chasing a mouse away from her," explained Aramis. "She just didn't like the way I went about it."

"Oh really." This was definitely a story Constance wanted to hear.

Rolling his eyes, Aramis glared at everyone. "I grabbed a bunch of clean linens and threw them upon the annoying creature. Veronique was not pleased as she had just washed them."

"Can't say I blame the poor woman," murmured Constance, earning a heated glare from Aramis.

Shaking a warning finger at his son for bringing the subject up, Aramis was on the verge of gently scolding the boy when Athos interrupted him.

"I believe we should move onto a safer topic." Blue eyes latched upon d'Artagnan's mischievous brown orbs. "Tis still a journey home and much as I love my brother there has to be more interesting things to discuss."

"So now I'm not _interesting_?" Pretending offense, Aramis pouted. Of course Constance didn't let him get away with it and, leaning over her horse, punched him hard in the shoulder.

"Mis," growled Porthos, "shut it." When his friend did so, Porthos winked at Constance.

"We could talk about what happened to the cardinal," offered d'Artagnan.

"Too depressin', runt."

"How about the latest fashions back in the city?" Feeling it was a much safer topic, Ninon was taken aback at the horrified expressions upon the inseparable's features. Bien, all except Aramis that is. From what Ninon had gathered that one had a keen sense of dress.

"If I was allowed to I'd tell you what type of work I do for Richelieu." Noting expectant looks cast her way, Milady shrugged. "But I can't."

"This conversation's goin' nowhere fast." Exchanging pained looks with the others, Porthos tightened his grip upon Roulette's reins. His mount was stubbornly refusing to follow his lead.

Deciding to discover what everyone was talking about, Andre pulled his mount up near the group. It was then that young Louis spoke up.

"Papa bought me some new toys. I could tell you all about them if you'd like." His words were met with groans from all the adults. "Or," he glanced at d'Artagnan, "I could tell you what happened when I went along with d'Art and helped old Serge out in his kitchen." Watching his friend frantically shaking his head and waving his hands at him, Louis laughed with delight. This was something that was to have stayed just between them and Serge. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned it after all.

All eyes turned upon d'Artagnan then. "Nothing happened. Truly. I swear it." Glaring at Louis, he vowed to pay the petit back.

"Mmmmm," hummed Athos. "I may have a talk with Serge upon our return to see what manner of trouble those two wrought." The twinkle in his eyes gave it away that he was not really upset to hear that Serge may have gotten the bad end of a bargain with the children. "Let us find something of mutual interest to speak upon, eh?"

From that point onward, everyone stayed away from touchy subjects until they entered the city limits.

++++

_Notes:_

_Maladrins_ \- brigands  
_Ma belle_ \- my beautiful

_Quote: "I'm sorry I slapped you. But you didn't seem like you would ever stop talking and I panicked."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "You know a woman is mad at you when she starts off a sentence with - I just find it funny how... because there's a 99.9% she didn't find it funny."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Sometimes the best thing you can do is sit back... keep your mouth shut... your eyes open and let the stupid sort out itself."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: "Gentlemen... just so you know, Fine is a woman's warning shot. If you hear this word, either start apologizing or run for your freakin' life."_ \- from Aunty Acid. Of course I left out the word - _freakin'_. That seemed more a Porthos' word. LOL! But I wanted Aramis to deliver it.

_Quote: "Beware. My angel wings are in the repair shop. So today I'm riding my broomstick. Be afraid."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

_Quote: “Strangely it’s the voices outside my head that bother me the most.”_ – from Aunty Acid. You will have noticed that I rephrased it somewhat to fit Athos telling it.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early eve - The Royal Palace_

Hugging their son tightly as if they'd never let him go, which was probably true, Their Majestys' fussed over young Louis. The latter kept squirming within their embrace.

Here Louis was trying to act more grown-up but with the way his parents kept acting, he felt more like the child everyone claimed he still was. Twisting within his maman's arms he reminded them, "Remember it wasn't our fault we got taken this time." He wanted that understood that very minute.

"We do know, petit," murmured Anne, not wanting to let the child out of her sight for one minute more.

"It was under rather unfortunate circumstances that you were taken from us, son." King Louis would have to have a lengthy conversation with his old fox over how they could keep the child safe while not hindering the boy's freedom. Considering what's been happening of late, King Louis wasn't sure it was even a possibility.

"Louis, were any of our guards hurt during the skirmish when we were kidnapped?" Standing with his friends, d'Artagnan felt Anne's arm go around his shoulder. As for Louis, the older man smiled back at him.

"You worry over everyone more than yourself, d'Art. Which is a good sign of a leader you would one day certainly become." Humming pleasantly, Louis remembered what the Garrison physician had told him at the time. "Some of the guards suffered injuries. None of which were fatal." Noting relief cover the young Gascon's face, Louis placed both hands on top of the lad's shoulders. "I was told of your courageous act in trying to protect both our son and Ninon."

Blushing, d'Artagnan didn't feel worthy of such praise. When Louis lifted his chin up, with a single finger, he gazed into the friendly dark orbs staring into his own.

"I can only look forward to the day you'll be old enough to join the ranks of my Musketeers." When Cardinal Richelieu, who stood beside him began clearing his throat, Louis understood that meant His Eminence wanted to speak next.

"Sire, I believe when d'Artagnan becomes of age he needn't go through the bother of routine training." Gently squeezing the back of the youth's neck, Richelieu continued. "Already he's proven his bravery and loyalty. He's trained under your best Musketeers along with Captain Treville." Observing d'Artagnan absorbing his words, Richelieu grinned. "I would say by his eighteenth natal day he should be formally inducted."

"Cardinal," drawled King Louis, "once again you've stolen my thunder. For that was exactly what I had planned to say." Staring at His Eminence crossly, he then rolled his eyes.

Mouth agape, d'Artagnan gazed at his papas. "Did any of you know what they had in mind?"

"His Majesty mentioned something of this nature to us concerning your future a few months past." To his mind, Athos thought it a great reward.

"Won't the rest of the Musketeers resent me when the time comes?" Silence met his question. "I'd be the first one to skip being treated as a recruit."

Stepping forward, Treville fondly gazed at the boy. "You have protected Their Majestys and the Dauphin before. Deeds of such nature are how Musketeers earn their pauldrons." Shrugging one shoulder, Treville's smile never left his face. "Besides all my men love you and, if I recollect correctly, they've been teaching you all manner of techniques. They would be pleased for you when the time comes."

"You're in agreement with them then?" asked d'Artagnan.

"If you were of age right now you would be upon your knees before the king and brought into our brotherhood." Clapping the lad's back, Treville couldn't have been prouder of the youngster.

Eyes filling with tears, not having expected to hear such news, d'Artagnan automatically turned into the chest of papa Athos for comfort. Overwhelmed with emotion, he buried his face in papa's shoulder. The feel of soothing fingers carding through his hair began to relax him.

"Now that that's taken care of," King Louis eyed Ninon standing beside Constance and Milady. "All I can do is apologize profusely to you, Ninon, for the terrible event that took place here in my Royal Garden."

"I would have been badly frightened if it had happened to me," added Queen Anne.

"The boys kept their heads," murmured Ninon. "Which helped me keep my own."

"Anything you want of us is yours." Having made the offer, a sideways glance at the cardinal gave King Louis pause. His Eminence had raised a brow, making him re-consider his hasty promise. Correcting himself he added, "Within reason of course."

Lips curling upward, Ninon bowed her head. "Of course, Sire." Her clasped hands tightened together. Unbeknownst to the others, she had been thinking of making a drastic change in her life. Part of that change would include Athos, if he would be willing. Ninon would broach the subject with him later. "For now I would love to retire to the room you've given me."

A hand to her mouth, Queen Anne should have realized how tired all the women would be from their journey. "You're more than likely all worn out. I should have realized sooner." Tucking Ninon's arm into her own, Queen Anne began to lead her friend away. Stopping beside Constance, she took the younger woman's hand. "Tis too late for you to leave for your own home. You too, Milady."

Admitting to themselves that they were beginning to feel the effects of their travels, Milady and Constance meekly followed behind the two other women. A hot bath and then bed sounded like bliss to them both.

"Athos, I've ordered the men responsible for this unspeakable crime brought to the Chatelet instead of the Bastille." Having the fate of the Dauphin up in the air this entire time, Treville felt guilty for having given Comtesse de Larroque's life only a fleeting worry.That was because his main concerns had been for the boys. As much as he loved the petit, concern for the Gascon youth laid heavy in Treville's heart. Having never pursued matrimony, with any of the women Their Majestys had paraded before him, d'Artagnan was more than likely the only son he would ever have. Then again the inseparables had been like older sons, as well as major headaches, to him as well.

"What do you believe the king's punishment would entail, Sir?" With his friends either side of Athos he knew what all three of them would have done to the canailles, that hadn't put up a resistance, if it had been left up to them.

"They will hang," bit out Treville, with some heat. Rubbing at the ache in the back of his neck, his lips thinned into a tight line. "Under the circumstances they should face the same death they were so eager to bestow upon the Dauphin, d'Art and the Comtesse."

"They won't because we're more civilized than that." Said without emotion, Aramis' dark eyes flashed in silent fury.

"Men, take d'Artagnan home and I don't want to see any of you for a couple of days." Walking away from the inseparables, Treville paused upon listening to the Dauphin whine his complaint.

"Non, can't d'Art stay with me until morn?"

"If his pères don't mind," said King Louis, "I certainly won't."

Exchanging looks, the inseparables gazed upon d'Art's tired face.

"Tis fine," said Athos, followed by twin nods of his brother's heads. "One of us could return for him in the morn."

"I don't need an escort back home, papa." A tad miffed, d'Artagnan's features reflected his displeasure.

"Forgive me for caring, child. You're going to have to humor us for a time after what we have all been through." Noting that Gascon stubbornness coming to the fore, Athos sighed.

"If Louis, the cardinal, and Captain Treville feel I've proven myself it makes me feel like a petit garcon to have one of you take me home."

"Humor us, runt." Winking at the kid, Porthos grinned. "We're gonna 'ave awful nightmares for some time considerin' 'ow we found the three of ya."

Grumbling softly, d'Artagnan caved. Hugging the three men, he then followed young Louis up the long staircase. Pausing halfway up, he leaned over the railing to yell out, "Do I still get that pistol?" In unison three heads nodded back at him. Satisfied, d'Artagnan continued up the steps.

" _Pistol?_ " In tandem, King Louis and Cardinal Richelieu queried the inseparables.

Aramis then explained all about the decision made for their son to carry the extra weapon upon his person.

"Very good." Approving, King Louis thought it a wise idea. Glancing over at the cardinal, he wasn't sure the other man agreed.

Noting His Majesty judging his silence, Richelieu pulled a slight face. "Tis just sad that one young such as he has to carry that weapon at all. Even though we're mostly in agreement that d'Art has been and is currently being trained as a Musketeer, the lad should be living a carefree youth."

"In other words, Your Eminence feels our son is growing up too fast." Inclining his head at the older man, Athos was certain he had interpreted the cardinal's words correctly.

"Indeed." Snapping his fingers, Richelieu motioned for his own Red Guards to approach. "I believe I shall retire for the eve too." Dipping his head toward the king, and with a nod toward the inseparables, he departed.

"You three may take your leave and like my old fox mentioned do disappear for a few days and be with your son." Chuckling, King Louis tacked on, "Once you've taken him home that is."

Porthos and Aramis were the first to head out. Athos held back when he spotted Anne standing quietly by herself. "I thought you had retired along with the others."

"Once I was upstairs I changed my mind and thanked the queen for her generous offer," said Anne. "Normally I would have jumped at any chance to stay within the Louvre. But for some reason tonight I'd prefer my own bed."

"Then let me escort you to your apartments." Once the words left his mouth, Athos could have royally kicked himself. His muddled thoughts were in a mess. One part enjoyed the budding relationship between himself and Ninon. The other part was still drawn to his former wife. Which made no sense at all. He should have his head examined.

"Merci, but I'm quite capable of seeing myself home." Twas a wonder Athos could have any thoughts in that Musketeer head of his other than his infatuation with Ninon. He was practically mooning over her before. Milady had never been second best to anyone. She wouldn't begin with her new friend either.

"Forgive me but you sounded just like my son for a minute there," he muttered stiffly. "You always were stubborn as a mule, Anne. One would think that after all our years apart you would have changed."

"That's not very polite of you to say such a thing, Athos," her lips formed a moue.

"I am very polite." His blue eyes darkened. "I will ask you to excuse me and shut the hell up in the same sentence." Amusement lit his features up, while Athos observed Anne's green eyes flash with dislike. Listening to her call him several vile names, he lashed out with one of his own.

Now Milady was the one amused. Placing a finger over her lips she said, "Shhhhh... I have a secret, Athos. I'm not really a _bitch_ , as you so gallantly pointed out," she chuckled. "I'm just a woman with a backbone."

"Since you and your _backbone_ do not require my assistance, I shall take my leave."

Wondering why they could hardly ever have a civil conversation between them, Milady too left the palace.

++++

_Next day, near nine in the morn_

" _Aramis, get up!_ " yelled Porthos. By now his friend's usually in the kitchen making breakfast for all of them.

"What are you hollering so early about?" grumbled Athos, yawning and stretching his arms as he walked out of his room.

"Mis ain't fixed breakfast yet." His stomach growling, Porthos had a feeling his day was going to get a lot worse if he didn't put something in his belly soon.

"We got in late and have been granted time off." Huffing, Athos glared at the larger man. "We have earned the right to sleep in. Which is what I would have enjoyed doing except you were out here disturbing my peace."

"I'm hungry is all." He couldn't cook like Aramis but guessed if he wanted to eat he'd better get started. Still, Porthos gave it another shot as he paused outside his brother's room. " _Get your sleepy ass out 'ere, Mis!"_ Finally he got a response but not the one he expected.

"I can't get out of bed," grunted Aramis, huddled under the covers. "The blankets have accepted me as one of their own and if I leave now I might lose their trust."

" _Merde!_ " swore Porthos as he stomped his way into the kitchen, leaving a bemused Athos behind.

"Goes to show why I do not like morning people," mumbled Athos while rolling his eyes, "or mornings... or people for that matter." Quietly making his way back to his room, he closed the door behind him.

++++

_Near noon - Comtesse de Larroque's home_

"I received your missive. Short as it was I am still uncertain as to the urgency for my presence." As Ninon ushered Athos into the main room, he noted boxes upon boxes piled high. Curious, he kept his silence, leaving it up to her to explain what it meant.

"I have received more threats, Athos. I cannot stay here any longer." Moving closer to him, Ninon took one of his gloved hands into her own. "I will not live my life stuck inside my own house in fear for my safety. Nor would I want to continue to impose on the charity of the king and queen." In truth Ninon had been thinking along these lines before but it took more threats like these to be the deciding factor.

"What are you proposing to do then?"

"I shall enjoy being a teacher." Reading confusion in his gaze, Ninon explained further. "I am moving away from Paris... its influence and closed-minded people to open up a school for daughters of the poor."

"Twas only last eve we brought you back to the city and now this. I think you may be acting hastily." Slipping his hand out of her gentle hold, Athos still did not understand her reasoning.

Showing him the handful of leaflets that were shoved under her door this morn, Ninon felt they spoke for themselves. "It didn't take much for me to see what my future would be like if I continued to stay." Placing a hand upon the side of his face, she stared into his eyes. "I'm selfish enough to say I'd like you to come with me but you have a son I couldn't tear you away from nor the life you've rightly earned here." Ninon's face reflected her sorrow. "In another time... in another life..." She then kissed Athos softly upon the lips. "I could have loved a man like you."

Removing her hand Athos lifted it to his lips. Placing a kiss to her palm he then released it. "Tis a pity none of us are the marrying kind."

++++

On the ride back home Athos could not have said for certain how he truly felt. Oui, he had definitely been attracted to Ninon. But off in the wings hovered Anne, once again back intruding upon his life. Perhaps his earlier thoughts over being doomed to disappointment, in the area of romance, held some truth. _Bah!_ He was better off the way he had been going on. What need he of women and the troubles they brought along with them? Fearing questions from his brothers, Athos lingered in the barn with Roger longer than necessary. When he dared enter his home it was to find Aramis relaxing with a book. Of Porthos and d'Artagnan, there was no sign. So much for his concern about being pounced upon.

"You weren't very long, mon ami." Turning to the next page, Aramis' eyes stayed riveted upon the interesting text. When Athos uttered not a word, he deemed it necessary to lift his head up to stare at the older man. "Athos?" Listening to his brother turn the air blue, Aramis' brows rose high. Knowing that Athos had just returned from receiving an urgent missive from the Comtesse, Aramis surmised it hadn't been good news. With the slamming of the bedroom door, which actually shook the entire main room, Aramis figured that he'd better set out to warn Porthos and d'Artagnan to tread warily around Athos for the next few days.

++++

_Notes:_

_Canailles_ \- scoundrels

 _Petit garcon_ \- little boy

 _Quote: "I'm very polite. I'll ask you to excuse me and shut the hell up in the same sentence."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Shhhhh... I have a secret. I'm not really a bitch. I'm just a woman with a backbone."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I can't get out of bed. The blankets have accepted me as one of their own and if I leave now I might lose their trust."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Goes to show why I don't like morning people... or mornings... or people."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish all my writing friends and readers, that celebrate the season, a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful, healthy New Year!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, past one p.m. – Inseparable’s residence_

Finding d’Artagnan and Porthos, on the grounds in a penned off area behind the barn sparring, Aramis waved them over.

“Do you need us for something, papa?” Having built up a sweat, d’Artagnan swiped a sleeve across his forehead.

“Non. I just wanted to warn you both to tread softly around Athos.” Knowing he’d have to explain more than that, Aramis grimaced. “Athos returned a few minutes ago from a visit with the Comtesse. She had sent for him earlier. I don't know what transpired between them but he's doing a remarkable imitation of a thundercloud."

“Evidently somethin’ bad ‘appened between ‘im and ‘er.” Feeling bad for his brother, Porthos' concern grew for him.

“Should I go talk with papa?” offered d’Artagnan, his eyes bounced back and forth between both men.

Giving it a quick think, Aramis shook his head. “Perhaps once the storm blows over.” Looking at them both, he smiled. “So which one of you won your match?”

“Twas a draw." Swatting papa Porthos’ backside with his sword, d’artagnan jumped far enough away so he was out of arm's reach.

“You’re pushin’ it, runt.” Listening to Aramis’ laughter, Porthos ended up chasing his son all the way back into the house.

++++

_Over an hour later_

Athos had finally come out of hiding to face the world again, not to mention both brothers and his son. He hoped they would not ply him with questions he had no wish to answer. Almost as soon as Athos made the decision to sit upon the sofa, to finish reading a novel he had begun, d’Artagnan made his approach. “Do not pepper me with questions, child. For I am not in the mood.”

“I only wanted to know if you would like to spar with me.” A glance over his shoulder showed d’Artagnan papa Porthos giving him a thumbs up to press on. “Papa Porthos said ours ended in a draw but I think he just didn’t want me to feel badly.” Cocking his head to the side, he noted papa Athos’ lips begin twitching very slightly.

“What makes you believe you would fare any better with myself?” Leveling a long steady look at the boy, Athos noted the lad staring at the ground.

“I won’t know until I try.” Fingers crossed behind his back, d’Artagnan waited to see what papa would do.

Placing his book face down upon a table near where Athos sat, he stared into the young expectant face again. “Very well.” Leather pants creaking as he stood up, Athos placed a hand behind his son’s back, guiding him out the door.

++++

“I’d ‘ave loved ta ‘ave been a fly on that wall listenin’ ta whatever Athos and the Comtesse spoke about.” Drumming fingertips on top of the table, Porthos glanced down at the hand that slammed down on top of his own.

“You’re bothering my concentration,” huffed Aramis.

“Since I’m botherin’ ya, think I’ll go feed the horses.” Snorting, Porthos added, "They'll probably be better company." Knowing when he wasn’t being appreciated, Porthos left his friend be.

Nose once more buried within the pages of his book, Aramis tuned out the sounds of his friend's grumblings.

++++

_Back outside_

“You never used that move on me before.” Having tripped over his own two feet, falling upon the ground while backing away from a vicious strike, d’Artagnan could only stare up in shock noting papa’s face turn white in horror.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ” Bending down, holding his hand out, Athos pulled the boy back up. ‘Apologies, lad. I can only say twas not you I was thinking about when I lashed out in anger.”

“Papa Aramis said you’ve seemed upset after your return.” Not sure if he should prod the older man, d’Artagnan however wanted to know what was wrong. “Did you have a fight with Ninon?”

“She is leaving Paris to set up a school and teach.” Throwing an arm across the youngster’s shoulder, Athos hugged him close to his side. “There were more threats made against her. Ninon, being Ninon, does not want to stay locked up inside her own home. Nor does she want to rely upon the charity of Their Majestys.”

“You shall miss her though, oui?” Still not sure of how he felt about the blossoming romance between the two, d’Artagnan was disappointed on papa’s behalf.

“Where she goes I cannot follow.” Gazing off into the distance, Athos was left with only _what ifs_ floating within his mind.

A change of subject would be appropriate now and that’s what d’Artagnan did. Throwing papa a cheeky look he said, “Then how about _following_ me back inside the house where I can soundly trounce you at chess again.” Earning a light cuff to his chin, d’Artagnan happily led the way.

++++

_Constance’s home_

Serving Milady a cup of tea, along with some freshly baked croissants, Constance sat opposite the older woman at the kitchen table. “Tis quite depressing the thought of Ninon leaving us. Especially after I felt all three of us were beginning to bond.” Sipping her tea, Constance’s heart felt heavy. “There won't be anyone else like her in Paris.”

Conflicted as she had been over it all Milady didn’t offer an opinion, though part of her felt badly for Ninon. If it had been her, Milady would have stayed and fought back. Then again she knew how to defend herself. Something of which Milady doubted Ninon understood how to do. Wise in matters of the mind didn’t make one wise in how to handle weaponry. “Paris will just have to make do with the two of us then, Constance.” The younger woman’s bright laughter was contagious and soon had Milady joining in.

++++

_The Royal Palace – Council chambers_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, King Louis scowled at Cardinal Richelieu. “My head aches from having to deal with those idiots.”

Richelieu silently agreed but kept his own council.

“Next time I shall leave you to meet with them on your own. Whether they like it or not.” Getting up, walking around the table, King Louis stood beside His Eminence.

“As you wish, Sire.”

“Once my head clears Anne and I are going to spend some time with Louis before anything else befalls our son.” Going to leave the chambers, King Louis stopped and turned back around. “Now that I think upon it forget what I told you, Cardinal. I shall deal with the council myself. I am king after all.”

“Very good, Your Majesty.” Tis what Richelieu thought in the first place. The king simply needed to calm down.

“Oui, I think so as well.” Hand on the door King Louis hesitated before opening it, glancing back at His Eminence. “And the next time Comte de Villiers gives me an argument I’ll have him kicked off the council permanently.”

“Considering that the Comte wanted to raise taxes I’m in full agreement with Your Majesty.” A thin smile spread across Richelieu's face. “Perhaps I need to have a talk with him. I could be most persuasive.”

“I’ll consider it for next time, Your Eminence. I’ve worked hard to reduce taxes for my subjects.”

“In no small part due to d’Art’s influence I believe, Sire."

“The child opened my eyes up to the many sufferings the people of France were enduring.” Stamping his foot hard upon the tiled floor, King Louis’ ire grew. “I won’t have that imbecile undoing all my efforts!” Staring at the cardinal, he frowned. “Now what was I going to be doing?” Snapping his fingers, he remembered. “Ah, oui. Spending time with my son.” Having said that, King Louis finally departed.

Allowing himself to be amused Richelieu let out a bark of laughter which was cut short when the chamber door re-opened, catching him off-guard.

“Happy are we, Cardinal,” drawled King Louis. “Chuckling himself, he noted surprise register across the other man’s features. “Come. Come. Even you are allowed a certain amount of entertainment. After all, tis at de Villiers expense is it not?”

“As you say, Your Majesty.” Dipping his head, Richelieu tried hard to refrain from releasing another bout of laughter.

“Are you intending to stand there all day?” Amusement danced in King Louis' eyes. “Don’t you have weighty matters of state to attend?” What’s the sense of being king if one couldn’t have some fun with it?

“I’m certain I have a stack of papers waiting somewhere in my office for me to look over,” dryly retorted Richelieu. He was glad that His Majesty's spirits were still high considering all that had transpired recently, de Villiers notwithstanding. “Since you are anxious for me to leave the room I shall accompany you out then.”

"Thought it would be a tad boring for you to talk to yourself in here." Laughing now, King Louis ignored the put upon expression the cardinal now wore.

++++

_In a run down section of the city, near the Cour des Miracles_

_La Taverne de l’Épée Brisée_

A meeting was taking place between a group of malcontents intent upon a plot to take out the First Minister of France. They blamed Cardinal Richelieu for most of their woes. These men were much older and remembered the extremely hard days of earning a living to keep a roof over their heads. Everything that was wrong with the country they laid blame at His Eminence’s feet.

Believing the king to be nothing more than a puppet, dancing to the cardinal’s tune, doing away with Richelieu would mean a better existence for the rest of them. With this type of thinking they believed that in doing so King Louis would step up and act like the monarch he was supposed to have been.

However this particular band of individuals had never done anything to help themselves either. They took the easier way out and became voleurs. In some cases even beggars. So it was no wonder that they were about to embark on such drastic measures. Some of the men had sons that they talked into joining in this scheme. A few were reluctant but didn't want to go against their own flesh and blood.

What none of them realized was that Richelieu’s ways had changed drastically upon his friendship with a certain young Gascon. He looked at things in a different and better light. Also, little did they know, that as King Louis matured so too had his own outlook. Listening to close friend’s ideas upon matters of import, as well as others of higher rank, he had managed to give his subjects a chance at bettering their lives. This too was in some small part d’Artagnan’s influence. The petit garcon he had been at three years of age, all those many years ago, had brought joy into the lives of the powerful men that controlled France's destiny.

"I know one of the laundresses that washes the Musketeer's and Red Guard's clothes," said Fiacre. "She'll help us get the uniforms we'll need."

"Won't the soldiers become suspicious when their uniforms suddenly vanish?" Valery figured right there the plot would fall apart.

"She'll simply make up a tale that apparently everything was stolen." It had been a good question but one easily solved. Looking around the table, Fiacre was pleased to see he wasn't the only one unsatisfied with his lot in life. "Once we're inside the palace we'll take out the guards and replace them with ourselves."

"That part's going to be tricky." Exchanging a concerned look with Timothee, Macaire began to have serious doubts about pulling this off. "I'm a little long in the tooth to take out a soldier."

"That's why we got younger ones to aid us." Pointing that out, Fiacre grinned.

"You think once we dispose of Richelieu that His Majesty's magically going to come up with a replacement that would be more sympathetic to our plight?" questioned Leolin.

"Anyone's got to be better than what we have." Believing his own words, Benort looked around the table noting uncertain looks on some.

"You're forgetting one little thing," said Corin. "How are we going to get out of the palace alive after killing Richelieu?"

"If you can't be positive, Corin," spat Eneas, "then at least be quiet!"

"Tis all right, Eneas," said Fiacre. He continued on to explain things to Corin. "We'll have enough firepower at our disposal to hold the rest of them off until we get out of there." A sly expression stole over his face as he added, "Thanks to my friends in the Court." Confident his plan would work, Fiacre didn't want to here anymore naysayers. Grasping a tavern wench around the waist he pulled her close to give the woman his drink order.

Muttering to Onfroi, Quintin leaned closer to the other man. "If Flea gets wind of this we're all dead."

"I agree." Filled with misgivings, but afraid to voice them out loud, Onfroi didn't say more. Though a long look from Ives made him feel that he and Quintin were not alone in feeling this way.

++++

_Back to the Inseparable's residence_

"You have learned your lessons well, d'Art." Sighing in defeat Athos leaned back in his chair to stare at the chess board where, oui, his son had trounced him mightily at the game as the lad had predicted.

"Remember I not only play against you, papa," reminded d'Artagnan. "I do so with both Louis and the cardinal too."

"What about the Dauphin?" asked Aramis.

"So far young Louis has no interest in it." Placing the chess board and pieces back into the cabinet, d'Artagnan headed for the kitchen.

"Don't you dare spoil your appetite before dinner!" Eyeing the sheepish expression on the boy's face, Aramis figured he had been right. "Those baked goods Constance made for us are meant to be eaten with the meal."

"Oh all right." Slightly miffed, d'Artagnan walked over to papa Porthos. "Sometimes he's a stickler for the rules."

"Don't know why that is," snorted Porthos. "Used to be that Mis _broke_ all the rules."

"I heard that!" Huffing, Aramis swatted the back of his friend's head. "That was in my younger days and you know that. Don't put the wrong idea in our son's head."

"Just sayin' 'ow ya used ta be." Winking at the runt, Porthos grinned. "One sweet won't spoil the kid's dinner ya know."

Grumbling under his breath, Aramis marched into the kitchen only to come right back out to hand d'Artagnan a honeyed roll. "That's all you're getting until I fix dinner."

"Merci, papa." Biting into the roll, d'Artagnan closed his eyes in bliss. "Constance should set up her own bakery she's that good."

Mildly amused, watching the youth enjoying the treat, Aramis smiled. "Her first love is being a seamstress. Which doesn't leave her much time for much else."

"You will have to watch your weight once you and Constance tie the knot." Wondering perhaps if he should not have said anything, Athos noted the stunned expression crossing Aramis' face. "Do not act as if that would be news to you, mon ami. We all know you have been courting her. Marriage is the natural conclusion," he frowned. "Or at least I used to think so in this case. Is it not?"

"Mmmmm," hummed Aramis, slowly nodding his head at Athos' words. "Tis just hearing it put out there like that took me by surprise."

"You sure are taking you're good ole time," teased d'Artagnan. "If I was Constance I'd have slapped you silly for dragging your feet all these years." Ducking from papa Aramis' hand, that was about to slap him up the backside of his head, d'Artagnan laughed. "You're lucky she's picky and didn't get snapped up by some of the noblemen I've always watched chatting her up over at the palace."

"Really, d'Art, this isn't exactly a conversation I would have expected coming from you." A bit annoyed Aramis folded his arms, staring hard at the lad.

"Why? She's been my friend just as much as she's been all of yours. More so to you, papa." When his other papas nodded their heads in full agreement, d'Artagnan's brow arched. "I rest my case."

"I'm beginnin' ta think the whelp would make a go of it bein' a lawyer rather than one of us." Amused at how d'Artagnan was turning the tables on his brother, Porthos exchanged knowing looks with Athos.

"Perhaps Constance needs to box your ears instead of simply slapping you." Dancing away from papa's hand again, d'Artagnan giggled. Belly laughs followed, as papa Athos and papa Porthos couldn't contain themselves.

Throwing his hands up in the air, Aramis muttered to himself all the way back into the kitchen.

"Think we did any good." Looking between Athos and his son, Porthos smirked.

"The seeds were sowed long ago," remarked Athos. "But from time to time it never hurts to throw some water upon them."

"I think papa Aramis needs a deluge thrown upon them." A hearty slap to his back, from papa Porthos, nearly sent d'Artagnan reeling. Narrowly missing knocking papa Athos over, he righted himself in time.

"Let us play some cards until Aramis needs us to help him in the kitchen." While his son and Porthos went to sit down Athos retrieved the deck of cards, placing them in the center of the table. "Porthos go ahead and cut them." His eyes, every so often, strayed toward the kitchen where he could hear pots and pans clanging together. Wincing, Athos hoped they had not made things worse. His friend did need a fire lit under him to get him moving in the right direction. Ah bien his own love life, or lack thereof, was not the stuff of dreams. Looking at the hand Porthos just dealt him, Athos put other thoughts to the back of his mind.

++++

_Notes:_

_Cour des Miracles_ \- Court of Miracles  
_Voleurs_ – thieves

 _Petit garcon_ \- little boy  
_La Taverne de l’Épée Brisée_ – The Broken Sword Tavern (Thank you to FierGascon for helping me with the correct way to name the tavern)

 _Quote: "If you can't be positive then at least be quiet."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_The next day, late morn bordering on noon_

_Royal Palace_

King Louis was holding an audience with several key figures that would enable France to stay solvent. It wasn't that the country was about to go bankrupt but it never hurt to have the backing of a few men of influence in his pockets. So far their talks had gone rather well. Just when he was about to ask the gentlemen if they would like to break, for a light luncheon buffet being prepared, Monsieur des Chasteliers brought up the subject of financing the construction of more ships that King Louis had been looking into.

The funding for more ships thus far had been lacking, but if Monsieur des Chasteliers was in the position to back him King Louis was more than pleased to forego filling his stomach. Glancing sideways at Cardinal Richelieu, he noted that His Eminence was nodding his head in approval. King Louis' kitchen staff being one of the best around would do whatever necessary to serve them a delicious lunch, even if it ended up being later than anticipated.

++++

Constance just finished leaving the queen's rooms when she accidentally collided with d'Artagnan. "I gather your rush was due to the fact that lessons are done for the day?"

"I didn't hurt you did I?" He certainly hadn't meant to nearly knock Constance flat.

"It would take more than that little bump to do so," she snorted.

Walking down the hallway, d'Artagnan kept pace with her shorter strides. "We just finished but Louis can't play because he has to try on some new outfits Anne had commissioned for him."

"Which leaves you at loose ends." As Constance continued upon her way, she put the boy to use and dumped a load of silken material into his arms. His look of surprise made her chuckle, when she did so. "Your timing couldn't have been better, d'Art. I needed some help carrying all of that."

"Bonjour, all." Popping around the corner, Milady smiled at the pair. Especially amused to barely see the top of d'Artagnan's head because of the pile of material, covering her mouth she stifled her mirth.

"One of you better be my eyes since I can hardly see a darn thing," d'Artagnan complained.

"It would have to be Constance as I have a gift to deliver to the queen," said Milady.

"What do you have for her?" Frustrated, because all d'Artagnan noted was the pretty hat sitting jauntily at an angle upon Milady's head, he blew a piece of errant hair out of his eyes. The silk was heavier than he had thought it would be. Taking a misstep d'Artagnan nearly tipped sideways, losing his balance. Feeling hands grab him, from both sides, he was saved from an embarrassing fall.

Milady would not laugh, not at the lad's expense. "I have a lovely potted flower." Listening to Constance's sigh, she wondered upon it.

Noting the look the older woman gave her Constance smiled somewhat sadly, wishing she had a green thumb. "I've got a way with plants. It's a way where they turn brown and die. But it's a way." Smacking d'Artagnan lightly on his back for snickering, she gazed forlornly at the flower.

"I'm the same way." Sparkling green eyes met the impish blue of Constance's. "Yesterday I heard Queen Anne complaining that her chambers needed brightening up." Glancing down upon her gift, Milady grinned. "Hence this offering since her staff appear too busy to go out into the royal gardens and put together a lovely arrangement."

"Having a kind heart I doubt Queen Anne wanted to bother them." When Milady rolled her eyes, Constance chuckled.

"If I had been her I would have gone out into the gardens myself and picked my own flowers." A noise to her left told Milady that the boy was getting bored with their talk.

Not interested in the topic, arms aching as he tightened his hold upon the weighty material, d'Artagnan huffed. "Do you know what I'm thinking right now?"

Both women looked at the youngster with slightly puzzled frowns.

"Bien, non. Neither do I. Most likely because my brain's gone just as numb as my arms."

"You are not funny, d'Art." Grabbing part of the silken material, threatening to spill upon the floor, Constance muttered something unladylike under her breath.

"Where exactly am I taking all of this?" questioned d'Artagnan.

"Come, d'Art," gently chided Milady. "With all that training you've been getting are you trying to tell us that a simple bundle of cloth is bringing you down?"

"Do you see how much of it there is?" Trying to actually see the woman he was speaking with d'Artagnan had to tilt his head to the side, peering past the material.

"What I see is a petit garcon whining about something insignificant." Snorting softly when d'Artagnan stuck his tongue out at her, Milady was hard pressed not to kick him in the shin. "I guess you didn't know that I scare people. Not because I'm nasty," she wagged a finger at him, even though the lad probably couldn't see it, "but because I'm honest."

About to make a stinging retort, d'Artagnan's mouth snapped shut upon the arrival of another.

"Ah, Milady, we meet again." Preening before her, Monsieur de Villequier puffed out his chest.

"I haven't the time to speak with you, Monsieur." That was the kindest way for Milady to word it. This gentleman was simply not to her taste. A dandy if ever she met one. "I'm bringing a gift to Her Majesty."

Dubiously eyeing the flower, de Villequier pulled a face. "Perhaps later then." Turning upon his heels, he reluctantly parted company with her.

Catching the younger woman's curious face, Milady shrugged. "The only thing worse than the one that got away is the one that _won't_ go away." Laughter from her friends made Milady's lips curl upward. Ready to depart, she hesitated when noting someone hovering near the end of the hall Milady had just come from.

"Problem, Milady?" To see the sudden change in her friend's face unsettled Constance.

"I'm not sure," murmured Milady. "Thought I recognized someone."

"And therefore what?" About to drop the entire pile of silk upon the floor in disgust, for it seemed that they were getting nowhere fast, d'Artagnan picked up upon the concern he heard in the older woman's voice.

"You sounded like Athos there for a moment." Lips twitching Milady became serious again. "You could say the man in question was an old contact of mine." She was pretty sure who it was too, even after only a glimpse. "Fiacre. Though what business he would have here at the palace stumps me."

"If I may ask," interrupted Constance, "what is his occupation?"

"Basically he's nothing more than a voleur. But Fiacre has been useful to me upon occasion whenever I needed information to be had."

"For a price no doubt," added d'Artagnan.

"Oh that goes without saying." It was then that Milady was taken aback by what the boy did next.

Turning to where Constance stood near his side, d'Artagnan handed over all the silken material to her. "Something's not right and I'm going to follow that man to see what he's up to."

"Not by yourself you're not." A maid was passing by and so Constance snagged the young girl's arm. Giving her the cloth now, she told the maid, "Keep that safe for me until I return."

With a bob of her head the puzzled maid stared dumbly after the trio, as they left her standing there.

Barely having taken a step, Milady stopped and glanced at the gift she still held. "I can't go chasing anyone carrying this around." Not about to let the young Gascon and Constance go without her, mostly because the boy attracted enough trouble as it was, Milady frowned down at the flower.

"Put the blasted pot down then!" Irritated, d'Artagnan took off leaving both women behind.

"Oh bother." Placing her gift in a corner, where nothing should happen to it, Milady picked up her skirts as both she and Constance chased after the lad.

++++

Skidding to a halt in front of the throne room doors, first thing d’Artagnan noted was the lack of guards outside of it. Both doors were slightly ajar which enabled him to peer inside without being seen. What he then took in chilled him to the core. Both Musketeers and Red Guards on duty surrounded Louis and Cardinal Richelieu, with weapons drawn. Protection wasn’t being afforded either man though. Pistols and swords were what threatened the monarch and His Eminence instead.

As he kept watching, another group of soldiers appeared to be tying up other guards and herding them together. Now it began to make sense to him. The palace had been carefully infiltrated with men under the guise of royal guards. However they had acquired the uniforms was something of a puzzle to d'Artagnan. Still it looked like there wasn’t going to be any help to be had from their own soldiers. He suddenly became distracted by the smell of jasmine mixed with a lighter scent of roses in the air. D'Artagnan realized then that both Constance and Milady had caught up to him.

Pressing a finger to his lips, he wanted the ladies to utter not a sound. Stepping away from the door he took each of them by the arm, leading them away toward a place where they could safely speak and not be seen. After explaining what appeared to be going on in the throne room, d’Artagnan knew he had to do something. Since all his papas were stationed at the Garrison today helping Captain Treville with training, it was up to him to set things in motion.

“He’s got that look in his eyes again,” muttered Constance, who was all for going to the Garrison immediately to get the help they needed.

"Gets it often doesn't he?" Smirking, Milady wasn't in the least surprised that the boy wanted to go to the rescue without back-up.

"I know that Constance would rather we get Captain Treville first," pointed out d'Artagnan, "but things aren't looking so hot and I don't believe we have the time to do so."

"Neither of us have any weapons." Exchanging wary looks with all of them, Constance chewed her lower lip until it nearly bled.

"Mine are back in the school room which I can easily retrieve." His eyes darted between the two women. "I want you both to go warn Anne and young Louis while I go get my weapons."

"You're right, d'Art. They may be at risk too," said Constance. "Milady and I will make sure they get out of the palace safely."

"Just get them out of harm's way. They're both able to get to the royal stables upon their own." Taking a few steps away from them d'Artagnan added, "From there they'll be free to warn Captain Treville. We'll have to assume all guards on duty have been taken out." D'Artagnan had an idea. It was nuts. At least papa Porthos would have called it that, but it was the only plan he could think of in the spur of the moment. "After you're both done with that I want you to change into maid's uniforms." When his friend's eyebrows shot up, his lips twitched slightly. "I know where I should be able to borrow a page's outfit for myself."

"You mean for us to go inside there don't you?" Milady's eyes narrowed upon the youthful face. "Need we remind you that there are only three of us?"

"Do you know the number of kitchen staff employed here?" His friends hadn't any idea where this was headed, d'Artagnan could see that. "Trust me when I say that tis a large number."

"What has that to do with this?" Clearly Constance thought she had missed something for this was starting to not make any sense to her.

"They all have special skills that I know about. Have known for a long time." Waving them to be upon their way, d'Artagnan started down the corridor. "Now off with you and then meet me in the kitchen." Noting Milady appeared uneasy, he realized she didn't know the way there. "Just follow Constance. She's familiar with the layout of the palace and knows another entrance to use without being seen." With the women leaving to make sure the other royals were out of danger, d'Artagnan went to retrieve his rapier and pistol.

++++

 _Notes_ :

 _Petit garcon_ \- little boy  
_Voleur_ \- thief

 _Quote: "I've got a way with plants. It's a way where they turn brown and die. But it's a way."_ \- from Maxine.

 _Quote: "Do you know what I'm thinking right now? No. Neither do I."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I scare people. Not because I'm nasty but because I'm honest."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "The only thing worse than the one that got away is the one that won't go away."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom
> 
> ++++

_Same day – the palace kitchen_

Slipping quietly inside Constance and Milady looked over the kitchen staff, all of whom were in a deep conversation with d’Artagnan. Both women wore uniforms befitting the dress code for maids working within the Royal Palace which, of course, made them blend in well with the others. D’Artagnan looked every inch the role he was about to play, as one of the pages to His Majesty.

When Adaliz tapped him upon the shoulder, d’Artagnan looked past her to see what she was pointing at. Smiling his thanks he strode over to his friends. “Did Anne and the petit get away without any problems?” That had been one of his major worries. Not just for their safety but in hopes they’d reach the Garrison for help.

“The queen was shocked of course,” replied Constance. “But understood the need to get out of here fast.”

“She told us to do our best until Captain Treville arrived with reinforcements.” Hiding her pistols within the steep pockets of her dress, Milady then patted her upper right thigh making sure the poignard strapped there was still securely in place.

Then it was Constance’s turn to hide her own pistol, the same as Milady had done. Except her other weapon of choice was a sword. Having been trained by the inseparables, with a few guiding steps from Captain Treville as well, she was quite adept at the handling of a blade. Not as good as her friends but close enough to harm someone that was hurting an unfortunate. Her shooting skills weren't too shabby either.

D’Art’s pistol was safely hidden away from prying eyes too. Not so his sword though, just like Constance.

“What are we going to do about our rapiers, d’Art?” Fingering the pommel of her sword, Constance watched a grin spread across the boy’s face.

“When the time comes Chef Morin will get them to us.” Glancing over his shoulder, the huge chef gave d'Artagnan a thumb's up gesture.

“You mentioned that chef and company here,” her dry tone indicated that Milady highly doubted that cooks and pastry makers were much of a threat, “had certain shall we say... _talents_.”

“You shall see us in action shortly, oui?” Slyly sending a wink Milady’s way, Lucetta lightly touched a set of sharp knives at her fingertips.

It hadn’t escaped Milady’s notice what the younger woman had indicated, which peaked her interest all the more. Indeed the entire kitchen staff appeared most eager for the coming fray, judging by the lack of concern written upon their faces.

“All set?” Glancing at his two friends, receiving affirmative nods, d’Artagnan took the lead into the throne room.

++++

_Throne room_

“ _What do you hope to gain from this farce?_ ” Taking charge, Richelieu glared at the intruders. Really he should have let the king flay them alive with the monarch’s tongue but one look at His Majesty’s face made Richelieu change his mind and jump in. Not wanting this to turn into a blood bath, he stepped presumably toward the leader.

“You’re the reason why we’re doing this in the first place, Cardinal!” snarled Fiacre. “Decent folk can’t get ahead in this economy because of you!”

Wondering where all this was coming from, a puzzled frown was shared between Richelieu and King Louis. “Unless you were living under a rock these years past,” refraining from letting loose his own temper, Richelieu took a deep breath letting it out slowly, “the king’s subjects have enjoyed the reduction of taxes and have seen many improvements and availability of more good paying jobs. Even their housing conditions have been seen to.”

“ _You aren’t going to get around us with your words!_ ” shouted Valery.

"Cardinal?" His patience having grown thin, King Louis wanted to step in to deal with this rabble himself.

"For some reason, Sire," tilting his head toward His Majesty, Richelieu continued, "I appear to be the one to blame for their woes." His sarcasm was barely hidden and he wondered if it had gone over their captor's heads when they hadn't shown any type of reaction. However, Richelieu noted the one canaille was eyeing him with disgust. He was touched, truly. He'd would have laughed, if the situation weren't so dire. "Tis only proper that I be the one to deal with them." King Louis's scowl, followed by the careless wave of one hand to get on with it, indicated to him that his monarch would bow to Richelieu's wishes.

"Now that that's been decided," waving his pistol at the cardinal, Fiacre waited for Richelieu to move, "you're going to come with us."

"I highly doubt that," countered Richelieu, with an arch of one regal brow.

"Oh he's funny, he is," scoffed Macaire.

Quintin glanced at Ives. The latter appeared uncomfortable but stood his ground with the others.

" _Unless you want His Majesty to watch me blow your brains to kingdom come right here, right now, you'll do as I say!_ " Fiacre impatiently waited for the cardinal to make a decision. Originally his plan was to kill Richelieu in the palace but the others ended up changing his mind. Even though they had enough weapons to deal with the soldiers within the Louvre, they'd have better luck getting out unscathed if they had His Eminence with them. Once they were free and clear of the palace, Fiacre and his men would carry out their plan and dump the cardinal's corpse into the Seine. That part was going to make him a very happy man.

While Fiacre was having dreams, of Cardinal Richelieu's dead body sinking into the Seine, d'Artagnan, Milady and Constance easily slipped into the throne room without the intruder's noticing them. A few more extra bodies here or there apparently didn't appear to gain their attention. Which was a good thing for them.

Standing near the entrance they had just come through, the trio put on an act of being afraid like the rest of the palace staff that had unfortunately been stuck in the throne room when all this had gone down. Speaking for himself, d'Artagnan wasn't scared at all but he had a feeling that Constance's show of fright perhaps may have been real. Milady, on the other hand, appeared ready to do battle which made d'Artagnan feel less guilty.

Honestly leaving Constance out of this wasn't something d'Artagnan had an option to do. They were the only three capable of causing a distraction long enough for Captain Treville and the others to get here. He knew Constance was good with a sword and her shooting skill was nearly spot on. The one thought, in the back of his mind, was that if anything happened to her papa Aramis would never forgive him. It wouldn't matter though because d'Artagnan wouldn't ever be able to forgive himself if that were to occur.

Glancing at each of his friends, d’Artagnan’s slight dip of his head was the signal to start their diversion. Chef Morin had been standing near the partially closed doors waiting for it. Upon his signal, the chef immediately threw two swords toward him. Deftly catching them in the air d’Artagnan then threw the extra blade over to Constance who was expecting it.

Going into action, Milady made sure her shots counted. Hitting the first man in the side, she didn't waste any time shooting her second victim in the upper part of his chest. Lifting her skirt up Milady retrieved her poignard and stabbed another man high in the shoulder.

Meanwhile d'Artagnan's blade managed to cut down his first opponent quite neatly in fact. The canaille hadn't expected the attack and had succumbed to d'Artagnan's cut to the man's arms and both legs. Swirling around, not wasting precious time, he lunged forward plunging his rapier into another's chest. 

Constance hadn't let any grass grow under her feet either. Her pistol fired but instead of the ball going into the intruder's right arm, that she had aimed for, it ended up skimming the side of the man's head. Still, it was a very effective shot as it brought him down to lay unconscious at her feet. Next found her sword engaged against another man. In this instance, Constance slipped up slightly earning herself a cut to her upper left arm. Her opponent's sword had sliced through the fabric of her dress, leaving the sleeve torn, bloody and dangling. The wound had stung at first but it wasn't life threatening. Her fight came to an end, when a slash from her blade made contact with the man's gut.

++++

Fiacre couldn't believe what he was seeing. Yelling at his men to take care of the boy and the women, it was then that the doors burst open and more people came running out to attack them. Shouting again, this time at Timothee and Onfroi, Fiacre watched both of them drop to the ground senseless but couldn't see any wounds upon their bodies. It wasn't until he heard sounds of a woman laughing that he noted she held a tube-like object in her hands. When she winked at him, Fiacre could only dumbly stare at her in surprise.

++++

"I say, Cardinal," eyes widening at the sight, King Louis was shocked, "is that my chef?"

"I do believe so, Sire." Humming quietly under his breath, Richelieu was equally surprised but nonetheless pleased.

"Why that's... that's my entire kitchen staff." Absolutely stunned, King Louis could only watch in amazement as the ones he had employed took on all the intruders. "And how the deuce did d'Artagnan and Constance get mixed up in this?"

"I have no answer for that, Your Majesty. But it looks as if Milady's also lending a helping hand." Observing the way the boy, and both of the women, were ably handling themselves, Richelieu vowed to himself to commend each of them personally which also included the others that worked in the palace kitchen.

++++

Unbeknownst to King Louis, some of the people he employed had some rather colorful backgrounds. Matter of fact, a good portion used to work the streets of Paris. A few even had lived in the Cour des Miracles for a time but had managed to get free of the slum.

Wielding a meat cleaver in each hand, Chef Morin grinned as he used them to slice into flesh. Glancing over at Hamel he shouted, " _I haven't done this in God knows how long!_ "

Throwing knives, one after the other with lightning speed, Hamel laughed. " _Invigorating isn't it?_ "

Lucetta also specialized in using knives and managed to cut up two of the canailles that were unfortunate enough to cross her path. " _Hey, Adaliz! Great job!_ " She had watched Adaliz accurately use her blow-darts upon two men that were standing close to the cardinal. Temporarily distracted by sounds of screaming renting the air, Lucetta smiled to herself realizing that Reinald was at work throwing boiling water at some of the intruders.

Collete wasn't idle either using an array of pots and pans from the kitchen to bang upon the heads, and any other body parts she could reach, of the ones that dared to threaten them.

Throwing one of the canailles over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, swinging around Roux used his momentum and the unconscious man he carried to knock over another intruder. Having done that he took on another of the enemy in hand to hand, which he just so happened to excel at. Growing up in the Court you learned early how to defend yourself. It was a plus for him, being big for his age. He made use of his strength and some in the Court considered his hands lethal weapons.

++++

While the others had things well in hand, d'Artagnan engaged the one he presumed was the leader since the canaille held a blade close to Cardinal Richelieu's throat. Knocking the other man's sword away with his own blade, d'Artagnan began his dance around the poor unfortunate.

" _Bah!_ " scoffed Fiacre. " _You're nothing but a child playing at being a man!_ "

"Ah but contraire, Monsieur. I may be simply a child by your standards but I do most certainly know how to handle this weapon." Parrying against a blow from the canaille, d'Artagnan cheekily grinned at the older man. " _Age_ is merely a number. It doesn't define a person's skill." Taunting his enemy, dancing circles around him, d'Artagnan noted a wary look now entering his opponent's eyes. "If you're not afraid come taste the kiss of steel."

Standing near them were Milady and Constance. The latter grew concerned, though Milady merely rolled her green eyes at the youngster’s antics.

"I swear," huffed Milady, "Athos had better do something about Aramis' flare for dramatics because d'Art's following in that man's footsteps. All she heard from Constance were some mutterings about tackling Aramis herself over it.

++++

"I truly have no words for what I'm witnessing." Still flabbergasted, King Louis was actually beginning to enjoy what was taking place.

"Tis a sight, Your Majesty." Agreeing with his monarch, Richelieu's eyes twinkled. This would be a story that would be told for a long time to come, no doubt with a great many embellishments along the way.

When another set of doors crashed open, admitting Captain Treville and the other Musketeers, King Louis shouted out to them. " _You're rather late to the party, gentlemen!_ _May as well go back to the Garrison! I believe everything here’s nearly finished!"_ He could say that in all honesty to, as King Louis cast his eyes about the throne room. There were bodies scattered everywhere. Some living and some... not so living. And not a one of them were any of his own people. Making a mental note to give his kitchen staff a raise in pay, King Louis smiled at the cardinal. "I believe a few medals are in order."

"Without a doubt, Sire." Enjoying the look of astonishment upon Treville's face, not to mention the captain's men, Richelieu enjoyed a hearty laugh.

++++

" _Mon Dieu!_ " Lookng upon the blood splattered floor, Treville couldn't believe his eyes. Nor could the inseparables, judging by their faces. Then shock and dismay filled them all when they realized that d'Artagnan and Constance had been involved, along with Milady.

" _What the deuce happened here!_ " Stepping over prone bodies, Athos had to be careful not to slip upon the blood surrounding some of them. Directly going over to his son, he placed a heavy hand upon the lad's shoulder. "Why can't you be like other children and be off playing childish games?"

"Because you three never raised me that way." Still breathing hard from his exertions, d'Artagnan managed to cockily grin.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" His eyes skimmed over the boy's body but Athos didn't see a mark upon him.

"Non but I can't say the same for any of them." Glancing at their victims, who were either dead or moaning in pain from their injuries, d'Artagnan shook his head. When papa Porthos and papa Aramis came over he put up with them checking him over for wounds too. "I'm fine. Not even a scratch." Feeling fingers brushing through his hair, d'Artagnan smiled up at papa Porthos.

Satisfied that the lad was indeed injury free, Aramis spied Constance leaning slightly against Milady. "I'll be right back." His overwhelming need to get to Constance overrode nearly every other thought in his head. When Aramis joined her he noted the wound to her upper left arm. Gently examining it, his lips tightened. "I have some ointment to put on this. You're lucky tis not too deep so it won't need stitching."

"Shame that." Chuckling at his bemused features, Constance pushed away from Milady's side. "I hear you're a dab hand with a needle." Her gentle teasing brought about an answering grin upon Aramis' handsome face but then his expression abruptly darkened.

It had hit him hard then that she could have gotten severely injured or worse. Something which Aramis wouldn't have ever contemplated. The idea of losing Constance permanently had him take immediate action. Caring not for the gawking eyes upon him, Aramis went upon bended knee in front of her. Taking Constance's hand into his own, he stared up into her lovely face. "This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for when the time eventually came but needs must,” he winked up at her. "Constance, ma chere, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

" _Here!_ " she squeaked. " _I'm a terrible mess and, mon Dieu, we're in the palace!_ " With blood splattered upon her dress, and more than likely upon her own face, Constance stared down at him in absolute shock. Collecting her wits she snorted, "If we're doing this I want it done properly." Wriggling her fingers under his nose, Constance waited. When nothing happened, she sighed. "Really, Aramis. I don't just want the pretty words after all this time."

"Forgive me but I don't understand." His brows scrunched together, trying to figure it out. Stymied, Aramis was at a loss, while still upon bended knee.

"A _ring_ usually follows a proposal, Aramis." Refraining from rolling her eyes, Constance patiently continued to wait for him to slip it upon her finger.

"You do have one I gather," dryly remarked Milady, who was trying very hard not to laugh at the scene.

"Er, oui." Pulling it out of a hidden pocket within the lining of his doublet, Aramis held up the gleaming diamond. "Shall I begin again, Constance?"

"Oh stand up do and give me a kiss," she demanded. When Aramis complied, there was at first a lengthy silence broken up only by cheers of the other Musketeers. "Now you can give me that ring." Milady's loud snort made Constance giggle, while Aramis' face filled with color as he placed the ring where it belonged.

++++

"It certainly had been a day for surprises, eh, Cardinal?" Looking on, King Louis couldn't have said which had been more entertaining. Observing his kitchen staff work the room in a totally different and amazing way or having his Musketeer offer a proposal of marriage in the midst of all this chaos. Clapping his hands together King Louis stood up, sharing an amused look with His Eminence. "Seems we'll be having a wedding soon." One look upon the blood stained floor made grimace in distaste. Even though King Louis wouldn't hold the wedding reception in the throne room, appearances must be kept up. "First we'll have to clean up the place."

"Sire, does Aramis know what you intend?" This wasn't news to Richelieu, that the king wanted to hold the marksman's reception in the Louvre. After all Aramis was one of d'Artagnan's pères and His Majesty had grown rather fond of the inseparables throughout the years.

"I shall tell him and his lady shortly." Listening to the cardinal hum in response, King Louis watched on as Constance showed off her ring to Milady and the others. "It had been something Anne and I had been discussing for awhile. After all the young woman is one of my wife's best friends."

"I assume you intend to do the same thing for Athos and Porthos."

"If either of those two ever get to it then oui." Chuckling when Richelieu's brows rose, King Louis stepped off the dais.

++++

_Notes:_

_Poignard_ \- dagger

 _Canaille_ \- scoundrel  
_Cour des Miracles_ \- Court of Miracles


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same place and time - Royal Palace_

As the Musketeers gathered the bodies of the deceased traitors one of them, that had dared to lead the attack, weakly struggled against the strong hold of the soldiers. As the man was being led out of the throne room, he stopped suddenly while being marched past the boy who had defeated him.

Noting the blood dripping upon the floor, from the ragged wound in the man's side, d'Artagnan tried not to feel regret. After all this one had tried his best to kill him. The injury d'Artagnan had inflicted wouldn't end the man's life though what awaited the stranger was a worse fate as far as he was concerned.

"You don't know what you've done!" spat Fiacre in anger.

"I'd say it was you and your men that didn't know what you were doing," countered d'Artagnan hautily.

Turning his face away from the boy, Fiacre watched Eneas', Onfroi' and Corins' bodies being taken away. He didn't know the fate of his other friends nor their sons. With a heavy heart, Fiacre let the soldiers carry him off.

When d'Artagnan heard a familiar voice clearing his throat he turned around, nearly bumping into Cardinal Richelieu and Louis. Standing beside the pair were Constance and Milady.

"D'Art, you and your friends are to be commended upon your acts of bravery today." A grateful smile graced Richelieu's features. "All of you have saved my life and I will never forget it."

"I will be holding a private ceremony honoring you three in particular plus," grinning, King Louis cast a glance toward the kitchen staff who had suddenly disappeared into their domain, "to my astonishment those who work in the kitchen." Chuckling still, he shared an amused look with His Eminence. "It would appear that I've been quite remiss in finding out more about whom I employ."

D'Art worried he may have put his friend's livelihoods in jeopardy. He was about to have words with Louis over this, until the older man began laughing.

"Next time I invite an enemy to the Louvre I may arrange for Chef Morin to have his staff protect me instead of my Musketeers."

His mind at ease now, with that concern taken care of at least, d'Artagnan hugged Constance mindful of her wound. "Congratulations." Kissing her cheek, he then went to hug papa Aramis. "About time you did the right thing."

"Don't get cheeky, brat." Returning the hug with one of his own, Aramis couldn't have been prouder of his son's accomplishments.

"What of my wife and petit?" Looking over at Treville, King Louis raised a brow in question.

"I've sent some of my men to bring them back to the palace, Sire."

"Very good." Hooking his arm through Aramis', King Louis dragged the Musketeer away from all the well wishes the marksman had been receiving. "I want to first congratulate you upon your good sense to finally marry Constance." Rushing in before Aramis could say anything to that, King Louis informed him of his plans. "Normally wedding arrangements are left up to the bride and groom, however," he held up a finger, "you're one of my inseparables and Constance is Anne's best friend. So I have decided to step in, so to speak." Dark eyes twinkling, King Louis discovered that this was going to be fun. "Now as to where your marriage ceremony will be held..." his voice faded away, while leading a bemused Aramis to King Louis' chambers to speak in private.

++++

_Later in the day - Palais-Cardinal_

Tapping a long finger upon his desk, Richelieu was remembering the past events of earlier today. It hadn't taken a genius to figure out that the various skills he had witnessed, shown by Louis' staff, hadn't come from a gentle upbringing. Snorting softly, he began to make a list of names for the ceremony the king would be holding for them.

Beside each name, Richelieu jotted down their particular talent. Let's see, oh oui, Chef Morin had been like le diable himself wielding those meat cleavers around. Richelieu would do well to remember never to complain about the food whenever dining with His Majesty at the palace.

Noting how adept Lucetta and Hamel had been with those poignards of theirs, just as Adaliz had been with her blow-dart, Richelieu wondered if he could entice them away from Louis to work for him. Ah, bien, that was for another day.

The giant, Roux, would even give Porthos a run for his money in hand-to-hand combat. Mmmmm, Richelieu hummed to himself. Another name to table for later.

For creativity alone kudos had to go out to the older Collette. Having never seen someone use simple pots and pans as weapons before, Richelieu found out that in the right hands anything could be used to defend one's self. The same could be said for Reinald. Having boiling water thrown upon one was a nasty business indeed.

All in all, quite an array of colorful characters that His Majesty had hired. Though Richelieu doubted that Louis realized the backgrounds of those working for him. After all, the king wasn't the one doing the hiring. Perhaps more in-depth background checks wouldn't go amiss upon the palace's next hires, just so there weren't any other surprises along the way.

++++

_Early eve - the Inseparable's residence_

"To be married at Notre Dame is an honor," quietly murmured Athos to his son and Porthos, while observing the happy couple sitting upon the sofa. He had never seen Aramis so lighthearted and carefree. Sitting upon his brother's lap, Constance was curled up like a kitten happy and contented. Alex, not to be left out, was curled near their feet purring softly as if she was happy for them.

"Where are we gonna 'old the weddin' reception?" Thinking it right nice of the king to take care of the wedding ceremony, Porthos knew that he and Athos wanted to contribute to the celebration afterwards. As would their other brethren.

"Treville said that we could make use of the banquet hall at the Louvre." Noting Porthos about to object because it appeared this was also being handled by His Majesty, Athos rested a hand upon Porthos' broad chest. After a few light pats to it, Athos smiled. "We would be in charge of everything, mon ami."

"Neary half the Garrison offered to help with that part, papa."

"Eh, runt," poking the kid's chest, Porthos was surprised that d'Artagnan had known this, "'ow ya find that out?"

"Quite a lot of them approached me while Louis spoke with papa Aramis."

"I believe Serge had once told Aramis that if he ever married he would cook up a feast for him." Remembering the cantankerous old coot's offer, Athos realized that the former soldier would have to do so using the king's kitchen. But he doubted Chef Morin would put up much of a fuss. In fact, after what Athos had learned happened today, he thought His Majesty's kitchen staff would be very happy to oblige the Garrison's surly cook.

Young though he was, d'Artagnan realized that perhaps the betrothed couple wanted some time alone. "Why don't we give them some privacy?" Taking first papa Athos by the arm d'Artagnan followed suit with papa Porthos, leading both men out of the main room.

++++

Her head relaxed against Aramis' shoulder, while Constance played with the laces of his billowing, white shirt. "Mrs. Rene d'Herblay," she hummed. "I like the sound of that."

Softly kissing her lips Aramis licked his own, a wicked gleam entered his dark eyes. "So do I cherie d'amour."

"I still can't believe King Louis is letting us marry at Notre Dame." Returning his kiss with one of her own, Constance reveled in the warm feeling it left her with.

"His Majesty's generosity shouldn't be such a surprise to either of us when you think upon it." Brushing a hand through her titian curls, Aramis inhaled their fragrant scent. "After all d'Art's always been his favorite along with being the Dauphin's best friend. Plus he knows you're the queen's confidant and friend as well."

"I suppose," she agreed somewhat reluctantly. Still not believing their good fortune. "I have to start planning on making my own wedding gown right away."

"Things like that can't be done overnight." Frowning, Aramis had forgotten to tell her something else that was discussed with the king. "Promise me to not faint from the shock of what I'm about to say?"

"I haven't fainted yet considering what I've been through today." Curious, Constance wondered what more he could have to tell her.

"We'retobemarriednextweekend." He had rushed his words out so fast that Aramis couldn't be sure she had understood him. However her shout of dismay, followed by Constance jumping from his lap, spoke volumes.

"That's impossible! I can't make my gown in that short amount of time!" Once it sunk in, Constance's shoulders slumped as she bonelessly plopped back down upon the sofa beside him.

"King Louis said that Queen Anne would be taking care of your wedding dress. Athos and Porthos are going to handle the other details." Knowing that Constance would worry herself silly, to take her mind off of it he leaned in for a lingering kiss. "Now wipe your frown away. Sounds like all you and I have to do is show up for the event."

"There is the question of where we're to live once our vows are exchanged, Aramis."

"May we butt in?" asked Athos, who had just re-entered the room and overheard the young woman's concern.

"Of course." Patting the empty space beside her, Constance indicated for the older man to sit beside her.

"There is a small cottage down the hill from where we live. It went up for sale recently." Athos' blue eyes shifted to Aramis' face for a brief second then returned to Constance's. "Porthos and I purchased it with the help of Treville in hopes that whenever Aramis married he would one day live there close to us."

"It's your weddin' gift from all three of us," gruffly added Porthos who had followed Athos into the room.

"Mon Dieu!" Covering his eyes, for tears threatened to escape, Aramis needed a moment. He had no idea they had been planning to do this for him. Always having love for his brothers within his heart this just made Aramis love them all the more so.

Constance squealed out her pleasure and threw her arms first around Athos' neck, nearly knocking the older man over. Then getting up to hug Porthos she was spun around in a circle by the large man. If the captain had been there she would have shown her thanks in the same manner.

Never one to let an opportunity go by to needle Aramis, Porthos winked at the couple. "The trouble with women today is that they get all excited about nothin' and then marry 'im." His words were just the thing to say, as all of them broke out in loud laughter.

"Can I come out now?" asked d'Artagnan from the kitchen. He hadn't been sure if the adults wanted him underfoot, but listening to their amusement made d'Artagnan wonder what he was missing out on.

"How may I ask did all of these arrangements come about so fast?" Puzzled, Aramis shared the same look with his new fiancée.

"Everyone's been waiting ages for you to propose, papa." D'Artagnan said it so matter of fact that he noted papa Aramis couldn't argue the point with him. "Louis and Anne had their plans on hold for a long while now."

"It only took for ya ta pop the question, Mis, ta set the ball rollin'." His friend's red face told Porthos that Aramis was embarrassed at how long he had put off proposing to his amour.

"I wonder if I won the pool." Athos glanced toward Porthos which made his larger brother grin slyly. Gazing at d'Artagnan rolling his eyes, Athos chuckled.

" _Pool?_ " Staring at Athos, Constance's eyes grew wide as it dawned on her to what he referred. "You of all people didn't?" When Athos didn't respond, she asked again. "Did you?"

"What are you blaming my poor friend for, Constance?" Not comprehending her line of questioning, Aramis' gaze centered upon his older brother.

"Athos, you tell him," demanded Constance, not quite sure if she was mad at him or not.

"This should not come as any surprise to Aramis but the entire Garrison had a betting pool for when you would eventually propose to our petite soeur." Ah, Athos silently mused, he had never seen the silvery tongue diable at such a loss for words as the man was now. His brother had opened and closed his mouth several times but uttered not a sound.

Composing himself, Aramis' gaze rested upon the boy. "D'Art, you knew about this too?" The guilty expression covering the youngster's features told Aramis all he needed.

"I just do not know if anyone came close to the year and month I picked." Grimacing when Constance wagged a finger at him, Athos tried to appear contrite when he felt anything but.

Deciding she had enough excitement for one day, Constance stood up. "I better have you take me home, Aramis. I plan upon getting up early to go to the palace. It would seem I need to speak with the queen over my wedding dress." Pausing as a new thought came to her, Constance turned back around. Stepping closer to Athos, she didn't dare look into his face. Almost mumbling into his chest, she told him what was upon her mind. "I don't really have a close friend to be my maid of honor except Anne, our queen." Shyly she lifted her blue eyes to meet Athos' own. "Would you mind very much if I ask Milady?"

A foul oath immediately first came to mind but Athos held himself in check. Constance was so earnest in her request. How could he turn her down? Taking the young woman's hand he gave it a gentle squeeze. "I doubt any blood would be shed between Anne and myself at your wedding. So you have my blessing."

"Merci beau coup." Giving him a quick peck upon his cheek Constance then slipped her arm through Aramis' as they quietly slipped out the door.

Anne would actually be Constance's matron of honor, since she had been married to Athos. Thinking about his former wife, his emotions were conflicted. If anything this would be a wedding to remember.

++++

_Notes:_

_Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral_ \- translated it means Our Lady of Paris. It's quite close to the Louvre, about twenty to twenty-five min. which I assume is made traveling by car. It's located in the fourth Arrondissement on the Ile de la Cite in Paris.

_Le diable_ \- the devil  
_Cherie d'amour_ \- sweetheart  
_Petite soeur_ \- little sister

_Amour_ \- love  
_Merci beau coup_ \- thank you very much

_Quote: "The trouble with women today is that they get all excited about nothing and then marry him."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice long chapter as the last one will be the wedding and the finale.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, late morn – Royal Palace, Throne Room_

Bestowing medals King Louis couldn’t stop smiling the entire time, while remembering how all of them had bested those treasonist batards. Finding out that d’Artagnan had been the mastermind, behind his and the cardinal’s rescue, hadn’t come as much of a surprise to King Louis as it should have. Nowadays it seemed to be a common occurrence, where his young Gascon friend was concerned. Going down the line, King Louis’ first recipient was d’Artagnan. Giving the boy a brief hug brought about a cheeky wink from the lad.

Once the medal was around his neck d’Artagnan proudly stood by to watch Louis dole out medals to the rest of his friends, which also included everyone that worked in the kitchen.

Cardinal Richelieu had a few words to say to each of them too, as he followed close behind the king. D’Artagnan though had been curious as to what His Eminence had to say to some of them, as he noted shock covering Chef Morin’s and his staff’s faces. It wouldn’t have surprised d’Artagnan if the cardinal had offered them positions within the Palais-Cardinal.

His papas were all present and accounted for and d’Artagnan knew they were extremely proud of him. Papa Aramis winked at him, when he stepped off the dais. Then papa Porthos picked him up in a bone crushing hug. It wasn’t until papa Athos glared at the giant that d’Artagnan was put back down. After papa Athos placed both hands upon d’Artagnan’s shoulders, placing a kiss upon each of his cheeks, the older man then engulfed him in a warm hug. Then feeling long fingers trailing through his hair, d’Artagnan gazed into papa Aramis’ dark eyes.

It was a closed ceremony so the only other soldiers in attendance were the mix of Red Guards and Musketeers that were already scheduled for duty guarding King Louis. Going over to where the chef stood with the others d’Artagnan thanked them again for their help. They turned the tide yesterday and he shuddered to think what would have befallen them all without their help. Plus d’Artagnan wanted to find out what Cardinal Richelieu had said to them. He didn’t have long to wait, as Hamel was the first to speak upon it.

“Could you see me working over at the Palais-Cardinal for His Eminence?”

“So he offered you a position, Hamel?” questioned d’Artagnan.

“All of us actually,” put in Lucetta.

“Yeah, the cardinal said he could use people with our skills,” added Roux. “And he didn’t mean in the kitchen.”

“I heard that!” Scowling at Richelieu, King Louis turned around to face him. “ _You! Can’t! Have! Them! They’re mine!_ ” He punctuated each word with a stab of his finger in the air.

Bowing slightly, wearing a grin, Richelieu snarked back. “Until you annoy them and they quit, Sire.”

“Who says I’ll annoy them?” Not hearing anything further from His Eminence, King Louis leaned in close to the other man. “Speak up. I didn’t hear that.”

“I said nothing, Your Majesty.” Hiding another grin behind his hand, Richelieu shared amused looks with d’Artagnan.

“That’s what I thought.” Noting his wife beckoning him over to where she and Constance stood, King Louis cast a long look at Richelieu before taking his leave.

++++

_Shortly after the ceremony – Queen Anne’s chambers_

Not a word escaped her mouth. Not a single word for an entire minute and a half. Anne became quite worried that her best friend was in shock. Constance hadn’t moved a muscle either. Gently placing an arm around the younger woman’s waist she spoke softly. “Don’t you like it?”

When Constance tore her eyes away from the beautiful sight she had thought conjured up by magic, tears shone in her blue eyes. “Words can’t describe how much I do like it.” Going over to carefully touch the rich satin fabric, Constance felt like pinching herself that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

Her wedding gown on display was pure white, accented throughout with delicate light blue threadwork. Because the color blue meant _love_ , Constance understood why Anne had chosen it. Squeezing her friend’s hand in thanks, she continually stared at the miracle before her.

The bridal dress had hoops which gave it a distinct ball gown effect, making it look very elegant and special. Also, for another unique design, it had a stiff white collar made entirely of lace. The full, ruffled sleeves were decorated with delicate blue ribbons, along with an intricate embroidered pattern of flowers throughout the gown. It simply took Constance’s breath away.

"All that's left is for you to pick out your jewelry." Extremely pleased that Constance was overwhelmed over the gift she had commissioned for her, Anne took her friend over to sit down upon a chair.

"I suppose my only worry should be to not trip over that long train." Eyeing the yards of fabric that made it up, Constance blinked a few times. Anne appeared amused by her reaction though. "I s'pose Captain Treville could always catch me if I fell."

"You've asked him to walk you down the isle then?"

"Mmmmm," humming softly, Constance could still only stare in a daze at Anne's wedding present to her. "Before the medal ceremony I asked him." Thinking about jewelry, she remembered what maman had gifted her with upon Constance's twenty-first natal day. "I have an expensive pearl necklace with matching earrings that was passed on to me from maman."

Clapping her hands together with glee, Anne was very pleased. " _Perfect!_ Now the only thing left is for you to decide whether or not to wear a veil or go with a crown of flowers instead."

"I shall wear my hair down long with several braids in the back intertwined with flowers and white ribbons to match that beautiful gown." She didn't want to wear the traditional veil or the crown of flowers Anne mentioned. Constance wanted Aramis to see the love she held for him in her face as she walked toward him.

"Aramis is truly a lucky man, mon ami." Facing Constance, Anne wasn't ready for her friend to pop up out of the chair so suddenly and throw herself at Anne. Clutching the young woman's shoulders was the only thing that prevented her from falling backwards. Steadying herself, gliding a hand down the back of Constance's head soothingly, Anne felt tears wetting her face. Except they weren't hers. "Now, now, none of that. Tis a happy occasion to look forward to. Tears are not allowed."

"I can't help being a watering pot right now, Anne." Swiping at her eyes Constance then hugged her friend tightly. "I shall never forget this."

"I for one," Anne's amused eyes sparkled, "can't wait to see you finally wed the love of your life."

"Oh you know we haven't discussed my wedding bouquet yet." Biting her lip, Constance had totally forgotten. Here she was thinking everything had been figured out.

Snapping her fingers, Anne frowned. "I knew I had forgotten something. Still that's easily taken care of," said Anne. "Go with a colored bouquet with a variety of flowers that symbolize what you and Aramis hope for."

"I'd like them to represent our happiness and love."

"Don't forget wealth and fertility, Constance." Watching her blush a becoming red, Anne giggled. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Waving her hand at her face to cool it down, Constance laughed. "I should know to expect the unexpected from you." Thinking about what her friend just suggested, she knew what the bouquet would be made up of. "Lily of the Valley for happiness, red tulips for our love, orange blossoms for wealth and fertility that you mentioned."

"Then I think you're almost set. All you need do is show up at the church." Anne's words brought about a fit of the giggles in Constance and herself. It took them both awhile to settle down.

++++

_About one in the afternoon - Monsieur Chaput's Tailleur Shop_

Not believing how fast wheels had been put in motion, Aramis stood in front of his famille in full wedding regalia. “This is going to set me back some but you only get married once.” Noting three heads shaking back and forth at him, Aramis sighed. “Don’t tell me… another gift from all of you.”

“From Cardinal Richelieu and myself, papa.” Wanting to contribute toward the wedding, even if only a small part of it for His Eminence paid for the bulk of the purchase, d’Artagnan had used some of his own savings for the new leathers papa Aramis now donned. Besides the outfit would be able to be used later on whenever the inseparables were called to perform their duty for functions of great import. For some reason, papa Porthos and papa Athos already had dress leathers but d’Artagnan hadn’t recalled the last time either wore them. He never understood why papa Aramis was the only one to not have one but had never asked him.

Blowing out a long, slow breath, Aramis walked over to his son. Pulling the boy into his embrace, he kissed the top of the lad’s head. “At first opportunity, before the wedding, I shall thank the cardinal personally.”

“’Ere now, Mis, stand back so we all get the full effect.” Porthos had to admit Aramis cut a handsome figure. Then again when didn't the man? Leather pants were decorated down the sides with Spanish silver studs. The outfit filled his friend like a glove. It had an intricate fleur-de-lis pattern throughout the supple leather doublet. A huge cross design was depicted over Aramis’ heart. The rays of the sun were depicted upon the opposite side. Aramis’ familiar blue sash was wrapped around his brother’s waist. Finishing it off was the brand new chapeau trimmed with a blue band and full white feather tucked into it.

“Best not lose that chapeau, Aramis.” Athos’ voice held an amused note. “Tis going to be your spare whenever your old one has seen better days.”

“Or else ya lose it like ya did that other time at Madame Angels.” Grinning wickedly, Porthos ducked the hand Aramis tried to hit him with.

“Madame Angels?” Curious, d’Artagnan glanced at papa Aramis.

“Many, many years ago, d’Artagnan,” was all Aramis would offer the boy.

While papa was speaking, out of the corner of his eye d’Artagnan noted a familiar figure tapping upon the storefront window. Stepping outside, he was wondering why Milady simply hadn’t entered the establishment.

Is _he_ very upset, d’Art?” whispering her words, as if Athos would have heard her clear out here, she clutched her parasol to her chest.

Blinking owlishly at her, d’Artagnan at first hadn’t a clue what she was on about. Then realization hit him. “You mean your part in the wedding?” At her nod, he grinned. “I haven’t heard him swearing anymore over it.”

“That’s supposed to be of some comfort to me?” Rolling her green eyes, lifting up her skirts, she stabbed the boy with an ironic look. “Guess I need to find out the hard way.” Opening the door, Milady cautiously stepped inside. Encountering Athos’ direct gaze, she floundered for a few seconds before approaching him.

Meeting her halfway, Athos dipped his head. “Anne.”

“Athos.”

Eyeing the two adults, d’Artagnan thought it prudent for them to speak alone. Pushing Papa Porthos into another room first followed by a perplexed Monsieur Chaput then lastly papa Aramis, d’Artagnan figured this would leave enough privacy for Milady and papa Athos to speak.

“If you don’t want me in Constance’s wedding I would understand.” Biting her lip, Milady waited for him to say she wasn’t wanted. Story of her life.

“Tis fine, Anne.” Tipping her chin up with a finger, Athos’ blue eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled at her.

“Truly? You really mean that?”

“Oui, I do. In fact you will make a most charming matron of honor. May I ask over the arrangements for your gown?” Usually not one for small talk, Athos was actively curious what she would be wearing.

“Queen Anne took the liberty of taking care of that detail for me.” Her eyes took on a concerned look. “She described Constance’s dress as white, of course, with light blue threading throughout. So I believe my gown is to be the same shade of blue.”

Anne couldn't hide the fact from him that she hadn't seemed pleased for some reason. “Why so troubled over it?” Women make such a fuss over fashion, Athos thought.

“I never wear blue. I think it clashes with the color of my eyes.” Narrowing her gaze upon him, when Athos started laughing, Milady reached out to hit him lightly upon the chest. It was either that or slap his face. “ _Stop it! Tis not amusing!_ ”

"You are upset over the color of the gown?" His shoulders still shook from laughter. "My heart bleeds for you."

"It doesn't go with the color of my eyes," snapped Anne, grumbling under her breath about men knowing nothing.

"I sincerely doubt that anyone with _eyes_ in their head are going to pay any attention to that minor detail." Grinning he added, "After all by rights everyone's focus should be upon the bride."

" _Oh... oh... you!_ " Stomping her foot, Anne turned around and slammed the door behind her as she left in a huff.

Still chuckling, Athos swiftly turned around when the door re-opened again.

Sticking her head past the door, Anne spitefully announced, "Just so you know... you're to be my wedding partner." Slamming the door shut upon this delivery, she missed the look of undisguised dismay upon her ex-husband's face.

++++

_After three in the afternoon - Garrison_

"I'm not sure Athos is over the shock that 'e's ta be partnered with Milady." Thinking back when all of them had emerged from that room d'Artagnan shoved them into, Porthos thought Athos was coming down with something because of how pale he appeared. After his older brother explained what Milady had told him, Porthos had a good laugh at Athos' expense.

"He's been rather quiet since we left the tailleurs." Having listened to Athos tell them about Milady's visit, Aramis had done his best not to follow Porthos' example. Their eldest friend was upset enough as it was. Currently Athos was speaking with the captain. They were going over the new roster of assignments that had Captain Treville had just finished. But the next words out of the captain's mouth had nothing to do with Musketeer business.

"Gents, the banquet hall is being decorated for the reception and is coming along nicely from what the queen's told me. I'm sure we'll all have a splendid time."

"Everyone but Athos," whispered Porthos in Aramis' ear.

"Sir, you have not said what was happening to Fiacre and the surviving members of his group." Even though everyone was in the midst of preparing for a wedding, Athos had not forgotten about the traitors.

"There's not to be a trial because His Majesty was present when this attack happened. The men are guilty and will face the executioner a few days past the wedding."

"'Angin's too good for 'em anyway." Sharing the same satisfied expression with his brothers, Porthos didn't feel one bit sorry that those men would shortly lose their heads.

"On another note, Captain," with a quick glance at Porthos, Athos slowly smiled, "we are inviting you to come join us over at The Wren tonight to give Aramis a send off so to speak."

"Name the time and I'll be there." Looking forward to the coming eve, Treville went back to getting down to Garrison business.

++++

_Royal Palace - banquet hall_

While Alex weaved herself in and out between d'Artagnan's and young Louis' legs, the boys kept on helping some of the palace staff making the hall as attractive as they could.

Finally having had enough, d'Artagnan glared at the cat. "Alex," picking his pet up he was nose to nose with his her, "stay put." Placing Alex back down, he rolled his eyes when she yowled her displeasure. "We can't play right now."

"You'll have to wait, Alex," said Louis. "I'll give you a treat later if you behave."

As if Alex understood what Louis had just told her, she was good as gold for them.

"Bribery works every time, d'Art," giggled Louis, making his best friend roll his eyes again. As for Alex she simply curled up in a corner and closed her eyes.

"I think she's dreaming of that treat you promised her." While teasing Louis, d'Artagnan forgot to step back when young Pierre was placing a decoration above his head. Unfortunately, the page ended up dropping the rope of flowers right on top of his head. Scowling at Louis, who was laughing his head off, d'Artagnan sighed and took pity upon Pierre telling the other youngster it had been an accident and he wasn't mad at him.

"D'Art, how did we end up volunteering our time?" Having gotten tired of putting up ropes of flowers, Louis sat down beside Alex letting the cat cuddle in his lap.

"I believe _Anne_ ," d'Artagnan sent a pointed look at the petit, emphasizing whose idea it had been, "asked us if we had time after our lessons to lend a hand."

"I remember now that you told her _you'd_ help out." Pouting, Louis simply wanted to go outside and play. "But I certainly didn't volunteer."

"Anne volunteered _you_ , Louis. Now help me with this piece." Waiting for his friend to put Alex aside, d'Artagnan held out his hand for the next decoration. "The sooner this gets done the sooner we can leave."

"I get to beat you at swords this time, d'Art," crowed Louis.

Smiling to himself d'Artagnan was not quite sure if the other boy was stating his intention or asking him to let Louis win. "We shall see, mon ami."

++++

After six in the eve  - The Wren

Musketeers were everywhere in the tavern. Athos would not have been surprised to see a few hanging from the rafters. He watched while many of his brethren congratulated Aramis. With the way they kept slapping the man upon his back, Athos bet his friend was going to have sore muscles later on. Slowly sipping his wine, Athos listened as Treville spoke with Porthos. The older officer was looking forward to walking Constance down the isle. Her own parents were deceased. However, he had thought she would have asked one of her three brothers. Still, Treville had always treated Constance like the daughter he had never had. Pondering more upon it, Athos believed she had chosen wisely.

"Anyone minding the Garrison?" Charise served the second round of drinks at their table, while Aramis was still standing amidst the other soldiers near the buvette.

"Tis amply guarded, Mademoiselle," offered Treville to the pretty girl.

"Good to know the Musketeers never shirk their duty." With a wink at the captain, Charise went to take other orders.

"Think she likes ya, Captin'." Finishing off his second lager, Porthos grinned.

Nearly spitting out his brandy, Treville raised a brow. "I'm old enough to be her père." Glancing at his lieutenant, he caught the quick flash of amusement that came and went in Athos' eyes. "Why don't one of you remind Aramis not to party too hard as all of you have duty upon the morrow." Noting worry cross Porthos' face, Treville smiled. "Not until at least noon, Porthos." Noting the uneasiness slip from the larger man's expression, Treville took another swig of his drink.

When Athos came back, with Aramis in tow, the captain and Porthos gazed at the marksman expectantly.

"What?" His eyes touched upon them both, but Aramis wasn't a mind reader and didn't know what they were silently asking of him.

"So what is Constance doin' while we're enjoyin' ourselves, Mis?"

"She was going to spend tonight with Queen Anne. I assumed it had to do with finalizing the wedding particulars." When Athos, Porthos and Captain Treville all burst out laughing in tandem, Aramis' fingers beat a tattoo upon the table. Evidently they knew more than he did about it.

"The queen," Athos' lips quirked slightly, drink halfway to his mouth, "planned a party of her own for our petite soeur."

"Evidently Constance didn't know about it or she would have said something." Turning down another drink that Monet wanted to buy him this time, Aramis glanced sideways at his captain. "I will pace myself and not indulge too much more, sir." Treville only nodded back, taking Aramis at his word.

"I do believe it was to be a surprise for Constance." Smiling into his glass, Athos then drank his wine.

"Then how come you know all about it?" countered Aramis, a tad put out that they all knew and he didn't.

"Earlier after the medal ceremony I overheard the queen speaking with some of the palace maids."

"Come on, Mis," laughed Porthos. "Constance is 'avin' a party and so are ya."

"At least she won't have to worry about reporting for duty with a heavy head." A glass of wine was placed in front of Aramis, this time by Paul. Deciding whether to drink it now or savor it for later on, he hoped that Constance was having as much fun as he was.

++++

_Royal Palace - Queen Anne's chambers_

If he had been around, Louis would have been curious over all the ooh and awing coming from Anne’s rooms.

Constance couldn’t get over the assortment of lingerie she had been given, not only by Anne but some decadent ones from Milady as well. She had been brought to tears when she had first arrived and had been greeted by a whole room full of women. Having only expected it to be the three of them, this had come as somewhat of a shock. It was so sweet of Anne to invite some of her staff that Constance was friendly with. She was delighted that everyone had turned out for her. It had meant a lot.

Surrounded by good food, lovely gifts, champagne and friends old, Constance smiled at Anne. To her new friend she grinned over at Milady who gave her a sassy wink back. Suddenly Constance's future seemed all the brighter. Oh and did she mention there was _champagne_? The eve ended upon a high note with Milady’s toast to her.

Raising her glass up high, Milady grinned wickedly as she gazed at Constance. “Not all girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice,” she gayly laughed. “Some girls are made of sarcasm, wine, and everything fine.” Standing up, twirling around, she waited for everyone else to raise their glasses. “ _To Constance!_ ”

++++

_Notes:_

_Batards_ – bastards  
_Tailleur_ – tailor  
_Famille_ \- family  
_Buvette_ \- bar  
_Petite soeur_ \- little sister

Info on 17th century wedding gowns, jewlery and bouquets were done through internet searches.

 _Quote: “Not all girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Some girls are made of sarcasm, wine, and everything fine.” –_ from Aunty Acid.


	59. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we come to the end of, what turned out to be, a very long story for me.  
> I hope everyone enjoyed this and thanks all of you for your kudos and comments along the way. And now onto the wedding.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Day of the wedding - Notre-Dame Cathedral_

Standing before the majestic cathedral, d'Artagnan took in the Gothic architecture. Whenever papa Aramis brought him here, he always stood in awe of the structure. Papa never hesitated to give him a history lesson of the workmanship. From the spireless towers down to the stone ornaments, figures and gargoyle rain spouts, papa never failed to delight d'Artagnan with the church's rich history. Notre-Dame attracted attention from all walks of life. Twas especially noted for its famous, colorful rose windows. Also twas said that the details of the gracefully carved sculptures, placed so high above the ground, could only be admired by an angel. When a light nudge to d'Artagnan's shoulder brought him out of his reverie, it was to find papa Porthos by his side.

"Come on, runt, we got a weddin' ta attend." A gentle squeeze to the back of his son's nape and Porthos soon had the kid moving toward the church's entrance.

Once inside, d'Artagnan noted papa Athos impatiently waiting for them.

"I did not realize so many of our brethren would be able to attend." Though the inside of the cathedral was huge it appeared, at least in Athos' eyes, that it was nearly filled to capacity.

"Did ya forget what the captin' told us? He worked out the rotation schedule," explained Porthos. "'E's got a mix of Red Guard's helpin' ta cover the Garrison along with our men that stayed behind."

"Those soldiers that remained at the Garrison will be able to show up at the reception later," added d'Artagnan.

"I must be getting old that I had forgotten those details," muttered Athos. "Now that you have mentioned the cardinal's guards I recognize a few here in attendance." Athos should not have been surprised, as Aramis could draw people to him. Although all of them, at one time or another, had escorted their son to see Cardinal Richelieu, it had been Aramis alone who had struck up friendly conversations with some of the Red Guards.

"Best we go 'old up Aramis before 'is nerves get the best of 'im." His eyes danced with mirth, Porthos led the way up the isle toward where his brother stood beside père Donadieu.

As d'Artagnan lagged behind, he noted all the flowers and light blue ribbons that decorated the end of the pews. From what he had been told those flowers matched the ones in Constance's bouquet and the ribbons matched the ones in her gown. When he finally reached the altar, d'Artagnan patted the pocket of his doublet to make sure the rings he carried were still there. Watching his papas try to calm the groom down brought about a rueful shake of d'Artagnan's head. Being papa's best men it was up to them to them to make sure nothing went awry. If that were possible.

D'Artagnan knew that papa Aramis and Constance were still stunned at the generosity being showered upon them. Sitting in the front pew were three of the main reasons this grand wedding had been made possible. Louis and Anne sat side-by-side. Cardinal Richelieu was seated to Anne's right. The petit was sitting to Louis' left. Sending his best friend a quick wink d'Artagnan smiled when young Louis began bouncing up and down in his seat. The child was just as excited as everyone else, over the nuptials about to take place.

As organ music began filling the church with the Wedding March, all talking ceased. Everyone stood up, when the bride made her appearance. Taking his place, d'Artagnan held his breath watching Constance make her way down the isle. Her arm securely tucked within the crook of Captain Treville's arm, she had no worries of tripping over her long train. It had become something of a jest between all of them, when she had described it. If in his young eyes she appeared beautiful, what was papa Aramis thinking watching her? For that matter Milady appeared just as lovely and d'Artagnan wondered how this was affecting papa Athos too.

++++

Though the bride was perfection itself, Athos could not drag his eyes away from Anne. There was not any fault, that he could see, with the light blue gown she wore. As far as he was concerned it made her even more appealing. So much for Anne bemoaning the fact that the color clashed with the green of her eyes. It had been much ado about nothing, in his opinion.

++++

"Absolutely breathtaking," softly murmured Aramis. Constance never appeared more radiant than she did now. Just when his amour stopped at the foot of the altar, Captain Treville released her. Placing a tender kiss upon her brow the captain glanced up at Aramis and dipped his head.

Before joining her betrothed, Constance handed off her bouquet to a beaming Milady. Then she reached for one of Aramis' hands to hold onto and with Constance's other hand took his chin by her fingertips. "I've heard you could catch flies that way." Gently closing his gaping mouth, she chuckled.

"Words can't describe the vision you are." Swallowing hard the lump building in his throat, Aramis brought both her hands up to his lips. Placing tender kisses upon each one, they then both turned to face père Donadieu.

"Dearly beloved we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses, to join Constance and Rene in holy matrimony."

The voice of the priest droned on. Later when Aramis was questioned if he had listened to any of père's words, he simply smiled roguishly and told them all that mattered at the time was the person standing right beside him. Where she was meant to be all along.

Having a good idea that Rene's mind had wandered, Donadieu loudly cleared his throat sending the younger man a pointed look. Almost immediately, he heard quite a few chuckles coming from the guests over it. "Who is giving Constance in holy matrimony to Rene?"

Stepping forward, Treville said in a strong voice, "I do."

Glancing first at Constance then over at Rene, Donadieu smiled and continued.

Still wanting to pinch herself that this was all happening, Constance squeezed the one hand she still held tightly of her beloved. The père's words washed over her, as if in a dream. When it came time to exchange their I dos, she gave Aramis a sassy wink.

"Rene, will you have Constance to be your wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy state of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"

"I do." Wanting nothing more but to take Constance into his arms, at that moment, Aramis willed himself to hold back. Listening to père repeat those exact words back to Constance, he grinned wickedly at his soon to be new bride when she blushed a becoming shade of red. When it came time for her to say I do, she barely managed to get the words out. Aramis had a feeling that Constance wanted to box his ears at that very moment.

"Rene, what pledge do you give of the sincerity of your vows?"

"A ring." Turning to his son, Aramis opened his palm. It was then that his smile turned to one of worry, when d'Artagnan fished through his pocket and seemed unable to located the ring.

"Apologies," mumbled d'Artagnan. "Forgot I switched it to the other pocket." Catching the eyeroll he received from papa Athos, he grimaced slightly.

Sighing in relief, Aramis took the ring and turned back toward an amused Constance. "I, Rene, take thee, Constance, to be my wife before God who brought us together. To love and cherish you even as Christ loved the church and gave himself for it, to lead you and share all of life's experiences with you by following God through them. That through His grace, Constance, we might grow together into the likeness of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

No fumbling happened this time when d'Artagnan placed the other ring into Constance's hand. Listening to her pledge her troth to papa nearly brought him to tears. He had waited for this day to happen, ever since he was a three year old pup.

"And with this ring, I, Constance, take you, Rene, to be my husband, before God who brought us together, to love you, cherish you, to submit myself unto you in all things..." Pausing for a second Constance made everyone laugh when she said, "bien, perhaps not in _all_ things. We could negotiate terms later." When the laughter died down, Constance peeked at père Donadieu's face to see if he had been offended by her off the cuff remark. Apparently the priest was a good sport about it, because she noted his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Now where was I? Oh oui... and to follow you through all of life's experiences as you follow God. That through His grace we might grow together into the likeness of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord."

Smiling at the happy couple, père Donadieu was pleased for them. "Forasmuch as Constance and Rene have consented in holy wedlock, and have thereto confirmed the same by giving and receiving each one a ring; by the authority committed unto me I now declare you husband and wife." Making the sign of the cross over the couple's heads he blessed them. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

" _YA CAN KISS 'ER NOW, MIS!_ " bellowed Porthos for all to hear.

When Porthos' voiced this directive, a roar of agreement went through the cathedral.

Arching a brow at his friend, Aramis glanced at Constance who was crooking her finger at him to follow through with Porthos' suggestion. Taking her into his arms, he placed a long, lingering kiss upon his wife's lips. Aramis wished he didn't have to stop but reluctantly they broke apart. Constance's teasingly whispered words in his ear had him wishing they could skip the reception all together. " _Decadent_ you say?" Humming quietly to himself, he caught Milady's eye and dipped his head in her direction.

"Without further interruptions," glaring at Porthos' unrepentant face, Donadieu spread out his arms wide, "now tis my happy privilege to congratulate and introduce to you _Mr. and Mrs. Rene d'Herblay_!"

This time the roar of cheers was even louder. Musketeers all threw their chapeaus into the air, while organ music began to once more fill the cathedral. As the new bride and groom made their way back down the isle, the cathedral bells began to loudly toll.

From behind, watching the sun's rays shine through the stained glass windows upon both Constance and papa Aramis, d'Artagnan thought it was almost like God had truly blessed their union.

Waiting his turn to follow everyone out, d'Artagnan couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him upon noting papa Athos' sour expression when he partnered Milady down the isle. Papa Porthos, upon the other hand, appeared quite happy with his own partner. It had taken all of d'Artagnan's powers of persuasion to convince Flea, to take part in the wedding. Anne hadn't even batted an eyelash, graciously agreeing, when he had suggested the Court's protector be paired with papa Porthos.

Walking past the church's open doors, d'Artagnan was just in time to watch papa Aramis and Constance walk underneath an archway of crossed swords. Made up mostly of Musketeers, with a smattering of Red Guards thrown into the mix, it choked even d'Artagnan up. Before the couple entered the white bridal carriage, he was amused to watch them shake rice from their hair. They were now going to be taken directly to the Louvre for their reception.

Papa Athos and Milady were going to share a carriage with papa Porthos and Flea, while d'Artagnan rode with the petit, Louis and Anne. Cardinal Richelieu was sharing the last carriage with Captain Treville. When d'Artagnan's stomach began rumbling it had amused his friend's no end. Thinking upon all the delicacies that would be served up by Chef Morin and his staff, under the supervision of Serge, made his mouth begin to water.

++++

_The Louvre - Banquet hall_

"I swear, d'Art, I thought chef was going to take a meat cleaver to Serge." Rolling her eyes, Lucetta was happy to have gotten out of the kitchen when those men began to squabble.

"Too many cooks and all that," laughed d'Artagnan who had wondered how that collaboration was going to work out. "I presume the kitchen's still standing?"

"Oui but barely." With a cheeky wink at the boy, Lucetta's hips swayed back and forth as she re-entered the kitchen.

When a huge hand clapped his shoulder, d'Artagnan craned his neck to smile up at papa Porthos.

"At last our petite soeur tied the knot with Mis. Been a long time comin'."

"I wonder who will be the next of the mighty inseparables to fall." A sideways glance at Porthos, from Flea, made the large Musketeer do a double take back at her. Twining a lock of her long, blonde hair around a finger Flea headed for the buffet, her skirts swishing around her as she went.

Leaving those two to it, d'Artagnan roamed around the room pausing only when he overheard Milady sniping at papa Athos.

"Better to have loved and divorced than to be stuck with an idiot forever." Downing her glass of champagne in one go, Milady glared at her ex-husband.

" _I_ am the one that ended our marriage, Anne, not you," retorted Athos angrily.

"The best thing that could have ever happened to me." Firing back Anne felt justified when Athos threw his hands up in the air and stalked off.

So much for harmony in the camp, d'Artagnan thought wryly. Wandering over to where the wedding cake was on display he noted Papa Porthos eyeing it like a starved man. "You can't have a piece until the bride and groom cut it."

"Think I'll take the entire bottom part for myself." Licking his lips hungrily, Porthos missed the stunned look his son gave him. Though Flea hadn't and poked a finger into his mid-section. "Technically if'n ya don't cut a cake and just eat the whole thing with a fork, ya still only 'ad one piece." With a look of longing upon his face, Porthos left the wedding cake in peace to go check out the rest of the food.

"Perhaps guards should be set up around it," offered Flea to the young Gascon. The latter appeared somewhat bemused by Porthos' response. Taking the lad by the arm, she pulled him toward the main buffet area. Porthos wasn't the only one hungry, after all.

++++

Later on found Milady touting her own rules upon love and lasting relationships to Flea. Ticking each rule off upon her fingers she began. " _One_. Find a man who makes you laugh. _Two_. Find a man who has a good job and can cook." She laughed as Flea's expressive face showed her surprise at that one. " _Three_. Find a man who is honest." Whispering, Milady leaned in close to Flea saying, "That one is very hard to do." Hiccuping, she carried on. " _Four_. Find a man who will pamper you with gifts. That one's my particular favorite and so is rule number _Five_. Find a man who is awesome in bed." Flea nearly choked upon her champagne, amusing Milady once again. "Six." Noting Flea frowning, she cheekily added, "Oui, there's one more. Now pay close attention and wait for it. Tis of the most import." Snapping her fingers Milady's enthusiasm for her topic showed how much she had had to drink, as she tottered to the left and right. Kissing her fingertips she dropped the bomb so to speak upon poor Flea. "Tis of great import that those five men never meet."

This time Flea dropped her glass in shock, expecting it to shatter into tiny pieces where she would then have to embarrassingly pick the shards up while everyone stared at her like she was an imbecile. Fortunately the glass was deftly caught up by Athos' hand. Thanking him profusely, Flea hastily excused herself.

"You have a strange way of making friends and influencing people." The dry tone of Athos' voice should have been a warning to Anne that she was very close to that precipice Athos had been wanting to push her over for some time.

Watching the wide range of emotions crossing her ex-husband's features, Milady wondered perhaps she had gone a tad too far. She had known Athos had been nearby and so had not tone downed her voice so it would carry over to him. "I suppose you wished that were my neck, Athos." Observing the way his fingers kept tightening upon the stem of his wine glass, Milady understood the feelings that coursed within him.

"I will not be baited anymore today." Noting Aramis and Constance engaged in conversation with Their Majestys, Athos tried to control his emotions. "Tis their day and even you," he pointed a finger at her, "won't spoil it for me."

That man always did bring out the witch in her. Grumbling, Anne went to get something more to drink. That was if she could find the liquor table that had been set up. Odd that it never appeared to stay in one place.

++++

Having stuffed themselves with good food and sweets, d'Artagnan and young Louis enjoyed watching the guests dance. As long as it wasn't one of them, they were happy.

"I'm glad papa isn't having them play those old boring pieces." Popping a bonbon into his mouth, Louis bobbed his head along to the lively music.

"You'll have an upset tummy tonight if you keep eating that way." Sipping his small glass of wine, d'Artagnan smiled over the rim of it.

Looking at the bonbon in his hand Louis let out a long suffering sigh, placing it back upon the plate. When d'Artagnan tapped him upon the arm to gain his attention, he followed his friend's finger that was pointing to a certain young girl about Louis' age. " _NON! NON! NON!_ " Twas then he spotted Lissette. She had been hell bent upon trying to get her parents to arrange a match between them. "What's _she_ doing here?"

"I haven't a clue but I doubt Lissette and her parents crashed the reception." Leaving d'Artagnan to wonder if Anne and Louis had set this up deliberately for the petit. When he turned back to his friend, Louis was nowhere to be found. "Bien," taking another sip of wine, d'Artagnan chuckled, "that's one way to get Louis from eating himself sick."

++++

Time came for Constance to throw her bridal bouquet to all the anxious single ladies. The women all gathered together in a crunch of bodies. Each one hopeful they'd be the one lucky enough to catch it and snag the man of their dreams. Turning her back upon them Constance threw her right arm backwards. The bouquet went sailing through the air to land into an astonished Milady's arms.

Milady hadn't even been one of the eager hopefuls. Instead choosing to stand near the spiked punch bowl. How did she know the punch had been doctored? Because Serge had told her he'd seen one of the Musketeers doing it. Twas why he brought out more punch for just the children or teetotalers to drink.

Anyway there Milady stood, minding her own business, when the sound of something heading her way made her head turn around just in time to see and catch the flowery creation coming in her direction. When a dry voice congratulated her, she whirled around a bit too fast making herself dizzy in the process. The hand that reached out to steady Milady saved her from an embarrassing fall. When the room stopped spinning, she looked up in time to note amusement come and go quickly in Athos' blue-eyed gaze. "Twas certainly not my aim in life to catch it," Milady hiccuped. Then the humor of the situation got to her and Athos at the same time, as their mingled laughter caused many a head to turn their way.

"Twould seem you have disappointed many a maiden here." Clinking his glass of brandy against her half-filled one of champagne, Athos continued to chuckle. She appeared distinctly unnerved over it. Either that or it was because she was well upon her way to becoming drunk as a skunk.

"Truce, Athos." Not feeling quite up to sparring with the man, Anne figured calling a temporary cease and desist was her best option.

"At least until the banquet is finished." Nodding his head in approval, Athos polished off his drink.

++++

“There’s hope for them yet.” Dancing with her brand new husband, Constance was more than content. His arms tightened about her waist, pulling her closer to his chest where she could lay her head upon his shoulder.

“There are matches made in heaven.” He kissed her forehead tenderly, giving Athos and Milady the briefest of looks in passing.

“And then there are the ones made in hell.” Smiling, Constance knew which one hers would be. “Shall we start making plans for their nuptials soon?”

“Oh I don’t know,” hummed Aramis. “There’s always Porthos and Flea to consider.”

“A double wedding then.” Grinning impishly, Constant noted surprise register upon Aramis’ handsome features.

“For now let’s concentrate upon our own marriage.” Spinning her around the dance floor, until Constance begged him to stop, Aramis whispered into her ear. “ _Decadent lingerie_ … mmmmm. Quite an intriguing prospect.” Winking at Milady, as they twirled past her and Athos again, he said, “Remind me to give her my thanks later.”

++++

Chatting with Cardinal Richelieu, d’Artagnan looked about him. All his friends and famille were gathered here. He had someone in his life now that he could call _maman_ , if d’Artagnan wished to do so. Romance was brewing in the wings for his other two papas as well. Having a solid future to look forward to upon his eighteenth natal day, becoming a full-fledged Musketeer, d’Artagnan knew that he would do them all proud. Serving France as one of Louis’ soldiers had been a dream but one he knew was attainable. Having great friends in high, and low, places would only aid d’Artagnan in that goal.

When the petit ran over to join him, apparently having dodged Lissette, d’Artagnan threw a companionable arm across the child’s thin shoulders. One day it would be his best friend upon the throne of France. Realizing when that time came, d’Artagnan would have the honor of protecting Louis from their enemies. This he solemnly vowed upon papa Alexandre’s grave.

_The End… finally_

++++

_Notes:_

_Petite soeur_ \- little sister  
_Famille_ \- family

The surname of Donadieu actually means - given to God. It was usually chosen for one entering the priesthood.

Parts of the wedding ceremony were taken from a site off the internet.

 _Quote: "Better to have loved and divorced than to be stuck with an idiot forever."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Technically if you don't cut a cake and just eat the whole thing with a fork, you still only had one piece."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: This is Aunty Acid's guide to love and lasting relationships. "1. Find a man who makes you laugh. 2. Find a man who has a good job and can cook. 3. Find a man who is honest. 4. Find a man who will pamper you with gifts. 5. Find a man who is awesome in bed. 6. Most important of all - it is very important that these 5 men never meet._ (I've re-arranged a wee bit of wording to make this come out the way I wanted. But got a huge kick out of it.)


End file.
